Play the Game
by Micro-Chick
Summary: Since when was love a game? Draco Malfoy does not play games. Love doesn't have rules, therefore it’s not a game. If Potter could move on those squares only, and Draco could avoid being taken in with some strategic playing, things would be so much easie
1. Slytherin Blood

Play the Game

By Micro-chick and Morgana Malfoy

A/N: *gasp* Yes, I'm back writing fics again.  This time, I'm joined by Morgi and am working harder on the plot and my grammar than before.  Of course, this story will be D/H so if you don't want to read it, don't.  Simple.

Enjoy ^_^

_Since when was love a game? Draco Malfoy does not play games.  Chess, cards, and quidditch are games.  Love doesn't have rules… right? Therefore it's not a game.  But why are both the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike no longer playing by the rules?_

Chapter one

Draco covered his eyes with a forearm cast across his face. The piercing light from a bar-topped drain dappled his pale face and jabbed into his silvery eyes every morning, and it was never at all welcome. "Go 'way," he grunted, rolling over and pulling his covers across his head. The dungeon was, naturally, freezing cold. 'A guy could lose his balls in this place and not notice,' Draco mused ungraciously. 'In fact, it's probably cold in Gryffindor Tower, too. Process of elimination -- there's no way Potter's got any balls.' He rolled onto his back and whipped his feet out from under the emerald green eiderdown, sticking his toes into his slippers. "Crabbe," he snapped imperiously, bunching his shoulders and preparing to stand up. "Crabbe, go and heat up some water." There was silence. Draco curled his lip, appreciating the well-practiced expression in the mirror over his dressing table.

There was a rustle from the opposite corner of the room as Blaise Zabini rummaged through his trunk to find something decent to wear.  "Glad to see you're finally up, Draco," He drawled, throwing a black cloak over his shoulder with a sigh.  "Crabbe's not here, he disappeared about 5 this morning.  I'm surprised his stomach rumbling didn't wake you up." The second half of his sentence was somewhat muffled as his head disappeared inside the trunk, appearing moments later with a dark cloak in his hands.  He held it up against himself and frowned.  "Does my bum look big in this?" He mocked Draco with a grin, Draco easily took the longest to get ready in the mornings.

"You looked better with your head in the trunk," Draco retorted sourly. He had detected the dig at himself and did not like it one bit. He stood up and wandered into the bathroom, wincing at the icy chill of the water on his hands. Draco cupped his palms together and splashed the water over his face, shaking his head back and slicking his fingers through his hair. "If you see Crabbe, Zabini, tell him he's a prick," he called.

"You tell him so often yourself it's a wonder it hasn't had any effect on him yet."  Blaise pulled the cloak on in one smooth movement and sat on the bed, pulling on his dark Dragonhide boots which had cost a fortune, more than Weasley earned in a year to be sure.  

Blaise felt an arrogant smirk twitch at the corners of his mouth and flicked his head back, sending the jet black bangs of hair out of his eyes.  "He'll probably nearly kill himself in Potions anyway."

"Yes," Draco agreed mildly, lifting his eyebrows as he came from the bathroom. "Maybe God will pop out of his hidey-hole and save me the trouble." He swapped his pyjama top for a black T-shirt with an acquired speed. 'Five and a bit years of changing in sub-zero temperatures will do that to a man,' Draco thought.

"He's never saved you yet," Blaise said thoughtfully, leaning back on the bed on his forearms and glancing at the ceiling.  "If God liked you, I have a feeling you and Potter would be snogging each other senseless in a broom closet somewhere right now."  He shrugged mildly, the wicked grin on his face out of Draco's view.  "Just a thought."

"I'm a child of the devil," Draco said lightly, outwardly ignoring the comment about Potter. "God has no desire to save me, and the devil doesn't want Crabbe in his house. Maybe Snape will kill him in his detention." Draco belted his trousers and sat down to pull on his boots. "Seeing as I'm sans Crabbe and Goyle and him share a brain cell, are you off to Hogsmeade today?" he asked, tying the laces of his black dragonhide boots. "I absolutely hate to ask you, seeing as you're such a pisspot, but I'm desperate."

If Draco had actually been desperate, he would not have admitted it.

Blaise's eyebrow rose, and he thought about pointing out that Draco had ignored his Potter comment but decided against it.  Getting hexed by an angry Draco Malfoy -- or worse, a lovesick one with THAT look in his eyes was not on his top ten list of things to do right now.  

"Such a charmer as always, Draco," He droned, pushing himself into first a sitting position and then a standing position.  "I'll come, but only because I have nothing else to do, and Pansy is mad at me." He rolled his eyes.  "Again."

Draco smirked. "I told you that girls were not for you, my dear Blaise," he said smugly, swinging his heavy black cloak onto his shoulders. "I know you need me as much as I need you." 

As Draco reached the door, he stopped and, without turning, smiled. "Your arse looks enormous, actually," he said helpfully, pulling the door shut behind him.

'Says the guy who obviously fancies a certain Gryffindor Boy-who-will-just-not-curl-up-and-die' Blaise thought, following Draco out of the Slytherin Dorms.

"I need a new quill." Draco began to speak and walk again as he heard the door shut and waited the usual length of time for Blaise to catch up to him. "And probably a couple more bottles of ink. I don't fancy the Happy Couples in Muddifoots or whatever, so what do you reckon to breakfast before we go?"

"Do we have to?" Blaise almost-whined but not quite.  Blaise Zabini did not whine.  "Pansy will be there."

Draco turned, a simpering smile on his face. "I'll protect you, Blaisikins." He slowed down until Blaise was level with him and put an arm around his shoulders. "Of course, there's always the solution of telling her you're gay. I, as always, will pretend to be your boyfriend if you need me." He put on a martyred tone and held a hand, fingers splayed, to his chest.

Blaise laughed, putting on a false high-pitched voice, "Oh where would I be without you? My hero!" He pretended to swoon into the arm Draco had placed on his shoulders like a Damsel in Distress.  Two first year Gryffindor's were stood near the entrance to the Charms Corridor and staring at Draco and Blaise like they had lost their heads, Blaise rolled his eyes.  "Shouldn't you be out somewhere doing good and being noble?" He asked sarcastically.

"Caustic, aren't they?" Draco sneered distastefully. He flapped a hand at the Gryffindors. "Shoo, go and... save some flies or something," he snapped, for want of a much better thing to say to them. "Stop looking at me, I might catch something." He swept into the Great Hall and sat himself at the head of the Slytherin table.

"You heard the man," Blaise said with a dark look, watching as the two girls hurried away as fast as their short eleven year old legs would take them.  He followed Draco into the hall and sat down on his left, looking down the table to see if he could see Pansy anywhere.  Fortunately, luck was on his side for once, she was no where in sight.  He visibly relaxed and grabbed a piece of toast.

Draco selectively chose nothing at all, merely pouring himself a mug of coffee and conjuring a couple of fat-free sweeteners. "This place is dire," he said haughtily. "Look at the idiots. I swear they multiply in an acellular fashion when my back's turned." He stirred his coffee and took the spoon out, tapping it on the side of his cup. "Vermin."

Blaise took a bite of his toast, chewing slowly.  "You sound awfully like a Ravenclaw when you speak like that, Draco." His nose wrinkled in distaste.  Although Ravenclaws weren't as bad as the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, their know-it-all attitude could get really annoying.  And some even tended to date Gryffindors, which automatically showed they had bad tastes.

Draco started, but didn't react or let it show on his face. "Yes, terrible taste. It's not my fault if I'm smart - not like I put it to a good use," he said, scanning the hall as he spoke for that familiar face.

Instead, his eyes met a pug-like impression of humanity. "Tell Blaise he's a dickhead," Pansy spat. Draco looked taken aback, eyes frozen wide in surprise like a silvery rabbit in headlights. 

"Tell him yourself," Draco said finally. Whenever he looked at Pansy, he wondered how he had allowed himself to be seen out in public with her. 'You know that, buddy-boy. You didn't want to be with anyone worth staying with...' He kicked himself. 'Bad thoughts.' Nevertheless, he was aware that Pansy's bulk blocked his view of the end of the Gryffindor table.

"Pansy, you always were terrible at Chinese Whispers." Blaise said, making himself known.  From the way Pansy was stood (she tended to take up three seats on a good day) he couldn't see Draco, or half the Gryffindor table.  The Ravenclaw table was lost but, unfortunately, the Hufflepuffs could still be seen.  "Now that you have told me what you think of me can you please move? You're invading my personal space."

"I don't want to move," Pansy snapped. "I mean... Draco, tell Blaise..."

But Draco had turned his back. "Are you done eating? Please tell me you're done eating," he asked Blaise, a hint of desperation colouring his voice and expression.

Blaise coughed lightly, accidentally spraying some crumbs on Pansy's back.  Not that she'd notice with her back to him anyway.  "Yes, I'm done."  He pushed back from the table and stood up, dusting his hands off and sending more crumbs flying in Pansy's direction.  "As much as we'd love to stay and chat with you Pansy," Blaise said slowly, walking over to Draco and putting a hand between his shoulder blades steering him towards the doors, "We really have to go now."

Draco felt himself steered and fidgeted. "Yes, I'll be seeing you around," he said to Pansy, barely able to stifle his laughter at the thought that seeing around Pansy would take a couple of days and a good big map. "Off we trot," he smiled vacantly.

* * *

The chill wind bit into Draco's hands and sliced his face as they pushed out of the entrance hall and down the steps to the driveway. He shifted his face down, pulling up his collar and tucking his hands into his pockets. 

"Blaise," he began, watching his breath steaming up into the pale opal air. He was cut off in surprise as a babble of voices greeted his ears. "The Quidditch team," he murmured.

"Finally," Came an icy voice from somewhere on Draco's left.  A girl with pale skin and jet black hair pushed her way to the front of the group and over to Draco.  "Wonderful to see you, Draco," She said, the look on her face however, said differently.  "You are captain, remember? Zack's been having pixies."

"Captain," Draco smiled blankly, trying not to step away from the rather creepy girl. "Zack IS a pixie. He should already have anticipated having pixies. I'd have thought he'd leave it until he was a legal age, but each to his own..."

Blaise reached a gloved hand up to muffle his snicker.  He coughed and dropped his arm back down to his side, "Draco I believe we were going to Hogsmeade.  That is, unless you have Quidditch scheduled, which I must always take a backseat to."  He made to move away and leave Draco stranded.

"But..." Draco started, reaching out to stop Blaise, but gave up. "What do you want, Cien?" he asked a little grumpily. "I was planning on going to Hogsmeade."

"So I can see.." Cien looked over Draco's shoulder at Blaise.  "If you've managed to forget, we have a match against Gryffindor next weekend.  And you still haven't managed to catch a snitch before Potter."

"You can shut up," Draco muttered irritably. "I catch them before everyone else. And you can ask Potter to show you the nail marks on his hand when we grabbed it at the same time."

Blaise filed this little piece of information away for future use.  "Are you going to be much longer or should I go ahead?" He asked Draco, burying his gloved hands in his robe pockets.

Draco looked doubtfully at the expectant Cien. "I think I'll be a while. See you in the Three Broomsticks."

Blaise nodded and turned away from the group of Slytherins, walking the direction to Hogsmeade alone.  Cien watched Blaise for a second before looking back at Draco.  "Yes, we all saw the scratches, but we also saw the Quidditch cup in those hands."  She scowled, stamping her feet against the floor to keep herself warm.

"He cheated," Draco mumbled, then drew himself up. "All right. Quidditch it is, then." Draco marched off towards the broomshed. He really couldn't be bothered to change, so his outfit would have to suffer. If he could just beat Potter.

Potter. That was the problem, of course. Everything seemed to throw them together, lessons, punishments, problems. It was like he couldn't keep away from him, and the more he saw him the less he hated him. Draco snatched his Firebolt from the rack, rubbing some fingerprints from it with his gloved hand. Potter had one of these, and it disturbed Draco to think of the same thing.... No, that was just weird. If anyone could hear his thoughts he'd be in trouble.

Cien picked up her broom from the ground and shot up into the air over the pitch.  Normally, she wouldn't have minded Draco going off with Blaise and ignoring practice but recently, it seemed as if Draco had lost his passion for Quidditch and gained passion for something else.

She checked her watch and sighed, sending the players out to start practicing.  "Zack! Go find Draco.  He's spending way to long getting his broom."

Zachary Randall rolled his eyes and tossed his dark blond hair out of his eyes, arcing his broom and shooting through the door of the broomshed, hovering with the practiced ease of a first-rate chaser. "You're to stop pondering, according to her majesty," he announced, a smirk tugging at his full lips. "Miss Mashuga has designs on your time and will beat you to death with the sharper end of a lipstick if you don't get your pert little arse outside. Her words, not mine," Zack lied, looking forward to watching Draco shriek at Cien for ordering him about. The fourth year wheeled and flew back out again, coming to a halt next to Cien. 

:

Sure enough, Draco was incensed. He leapt onto his broom and ducked through the door, flying like a comet out to the pitch. He looped Cien and came to a halt inches from her face. "Stop ordering me around, you little upstart," he snarled. "Formation seventeen, Quaffle in the third sector," he snapped, his cold voice echoing round the pitch. 

Cien looked more than scared as she opened her mouth to say something then turned and flew off to complete the formation.  'Finally' She smirked internally.  'He's concentrating on Quidditch and not Potter'

Draco shot a glare at Cien from the above the pitch. "MASHUGA!" he roared as a quaffle headed for her face. "Pay attention!"

Sending a glare in Draco's direction Cien pulled out of the way of the quaffle sharply and stuck a hand out to catch it, effectively catching it but gaining a number of bruises in the process.

The young Malfoy Seeker rolled his shoulders. "That was terrible, and you've already held it too long. Take it back up to the start and go from the top." He flew down to Cien, putting his mouth close to her ear. "Try to stop thinking nasty thoughts and start paying attention to the game. You should have passed straight to Randall and flown ten lengths left. You know that, Mashuga, so start acting like it," he murmured.

Cien nodded mutely, she had known that.  She threw the quaffle up to Zack to start the game and flew off into position.

Zack snatched the red ball from the air and moved back into place. He watched Cien shrewdly - he felt himself quite a one for watching things shrewdly - and tried to decide what it was that Malfoy had said to her. Something interesting, no doubt. He should make something up about those two. A good little unpleasant rumour never hurt anyone... much. 

:

"Malfoy, are we to play that one straight through again?" he called.

"If you know what's good for you, Randall," Draco replied coldly, staring at his hands. 

Zack passed quickly to Jenna, a new first year chaser on the team who was still unsteady on a broom but once angered, there was no stopping her, before bolting off on his broom.  Jenna took position of the quaffle and was almost hidden between her other team mates, which, being only eleven, wasn't a very hard feat to accomplish.  Just as she shot the quaffle out, Isaac Trent (third year: average player, very speedy) appeared, snagging the quaffle and tucking it under his arm, zooming off in the other direction.

:

As two bludgers came for him, Isaac was forced to drop the quaffle to Casper Hales who was waiting underneath.  Casper froze in his place, suddenly holding the quaffle and unsure what to do.  There was a crack as one of the bludgers connected with his right arm and the quaffle flew out, his fingers reaching out but incapable of reaching their target.

:

"Waiiit waaait, hold up!" Draco called out, dropping down twenty feet to the game

:

Cien pulled into a steep dive and caught the quaffle a foot from the ground, she paused with the quaffle in her hands while watching Casper and Draco.

Draco reached out to Casper's arm, pushing his sleeve up and tugging off his own gloves, running practiced fingers up and down Casper's arm. "You fractured this one here," he explained, touching the skin very gently. "It's called the 'radius'. Go and tell Madam Pomfrey. You caught very well, though," Draco smiled warmly. "I think we'll move you up the reserve list for the next game."

Cien's attention was dragged away as a bludger flew past her, nearly throwing her out of her seat on her broom.  Another blur of colour flew past and Cien barely managed to keep hold.

Harry Potter pushed his unfailing Firebolt to its maximum speed, shooting past the green Slytherin players who were sat watching two figures talk, with only one thought on his mind; 'get to Draco'.

The beaters bat in his hands weighed a tonne, but it was the only thing that could save Draco from the bludger pelting for him.  Digging his nails into the broom to keep hold, robes flying out behind him, Harry cut up the bludger, reaching his arm holding the bat back and letting swing with as much force as he could handle.

The bludger and bat connected with an almighty CRACK! and the bludger flew away from its target.  Harry swayed slightly on his broom, out of breath and panting heavily.


	2. Gryffindor Courage

Play the Game

By Micro-chick and Morgana Malfoy

A/N: Don't you just lurve cliffhangers? No? Sheesh.  Weird people o.O. Once again, this fic is co-written with Morgi *huggles* love ya babe.

Enjoy ^_^

_Since when was love a game? Draco Malfoy does not play games.  Chess, cards, and quidditch are games.  Love doesn't have rules… right? Therefore it's not a game.  But why are both the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike no longer playing by the rules?_

Chapter two

Harry rolled onto his side, still half asleep.  During the course of the night he had managed to throw his red and gold blanket off his bed and across the floor and was now curled up shivering.  'Sleeep...' 

A snort from one of the other boys (most probably Ron) made him open his eyes in annoyance and he winced at the light streaming into the tower.  He reached over to his bedside table and hit it feebly in search of his glasses as another snort shook the tower.  He finally found the glasses and put them on, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and yawning.  "Wake_ up_ Ron; we have to--" he yawned again, "Get ready for Hogsmeade."

"I'm not going to catch it if you throw it at my nuts!" Ron protested loudly, sitting bolt upright. "What's that?"

:

Harry blinked, stumbling to his feet and looking around the tower blearily in search of 'that'. 

"Go to sleep Ron!" Seamus muttered, buried under his blankets which only made his Irish accent even harder to understand.

:

"Seamus, you're a leprechaun," Dean informed his friend. "Go sit under a rainbow. It's the weekend, and you're already bugging me. It must be about four am. Harry, it's all your fault."

"My fault?" Harry asked, falling back onto his bed.  "If Ron didn't make a point of trying to saw through his bedposts with the force of his snores we wouldn't be in this predicament."

"I don't snore!" Ron yelped heatedly, his ears reddening. 

"You snore: live with it." Seamus pulled the covers over his head and tried to sleep again.

"And you're a leprechaun, also live with it. Now all go back to sleep. Harry, if you plan to keep talking, bugger off," Dean mediated.

"But I can't sleep with Ron snoring!" Harry protested, taking a moment to clean his glasses on his shirt.

"Then go away!" they all shouted.

"Fine," Harry shot back, staggering to his feet and grabbing his blanket off the floor.  'Maybe I can sleep on the sofa.' Walking out defiantly he immediately sought out the comfiest sofa and lay down on it, pulling the blanket over himself and attempting to sleep.

Hermione rolled her eyes and planted her hands on her hips. "Harry Potter," she began reprovingly.

'Oh god no...' Harry took a deep breath before sitting up.  "Yes 'Mione?"

"You appear to be sleeping on the sofa," Hermione commented archly, raising an eyebrow and walking down the girls' staircase. "And you have nothing on but your underwear."

"I'm tired," Harry whined, taking his glasses off then putting them on the floor next to the sofa.  "And Ron snores."

"Ron's always snored," Hermione said sagely, taking a blanket from another chair and draping it over Harry absently. "You usually manage. Besides, it's gone nine a.m.! I already finished my homework, so I'm off for breakfast. Fancy coming?"

:

Harry had no answer for Hermione on the 'Ron's always snored' part.  How did you tell someone like Hermione that you hadn't been sleeping well for a long time now, waking up thinking about a certain person with uneasiness in your stomach without making her worry? Exactly.  He dropped back onto the sofa and curled up into the blankets.  "Maybe later 'Mione.  Let me have half an hour."

"If you're not down in fifteen minutes, I'll do your homework all wrong," Hermione said ominously, standing up and walking out of the room, shutting the door gently behind her on her way to the Hall.

Harry sighed, throwing the blankets off him angrily.  Did no one want him to sleep in this place? He grumbled under his breath and stood up, walking up to the Boys Dorm and leaving his blanket on the couch.

Throwing the doors open he grinned, "Wake up you lot.  It's 9am, and breakfast is nearly over."

"Bugroff," Dean grunted bluntly, tucking his pillow around his ears.

Seamus jumped out of his bed with a yelp, pyjama's askew and hair messed up.  "9am?!"

"Get back in bed, you idiot," Dean pleaded, sitting up finally. He rubbed his curly hair and blinked hard.

Leaving the two best friends to argue it out Harry walked over to his bed and began rooting around for his toothbrush.  Coming up triumphant as Seamus threw a pillow at Dean in retaliation he slouched into the bathroom to brush his teeth.  "Someone jump on Ron to wake him up."

Dean shrugged and stood up, swinging his pillow menacingly, thwacking Ron over the head whilst yelling, "UP! GET UP you lanky ginger freckle-magnet!"

:

"What did you call me?" Ron snapped, suddenly perfectly awake. He leapt out of bed and started after Dean.

Seamus hopped over to the bathroom door, jumping from one foot to the other.  "Hurry _up Harry before I start calling you the boy-who-spent-to-long-in-the-bathroom!"_

The sound of the shower turning on was Harry's only answer.

:

Ron stopped and pointed at Seamus, laughing. "See him dance!" he grinned.

:

Seamus stuck two fingers up at Ron, still fidgeting and hopping from one foot to the other anxiously.  Ron rolled his eyes and pulled on his paisley dressing-gown, heading into the common room and out of the portrait hole for the prefects' bathroom.

"Right, Se--"

"Thanks Harry!" Seamus rushed past Harry and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it.  Harry raised and eyebrow then shrugged, walking over to his bed and pulling out some robes from his trunk.

:

"Are you and Seamus going to Hogsmeade later?" He asked Dean, while pulling on a mouldy looking T-shirt which was three sizes too big.

"Yeah, gotta go to Zonko's," Dean nodded, pulling a long-sleeved T-shirt over his head, having untangled it from its short-sleeved partner. "You?"

"I think Hermione needs some new books or something." Harry rubbed his nose then belted up his pants, sitting down to pull on some socks.  "And Ron wants to check out some stuff out of Honeydukes."

:

Dean grunted. "He'll only get taller if he eats more," he sniffed. 

:

Harry chuckled and continued to pull his socks on, forcing them into small holey trainers once that was done and putting a black robe on to complete his look.  "I promised to meet Hermione in the Great Hall, see you later?"

"Yep," Dean nodded, attempting to comb his hair and giving up. "At Hogsmeade, my friend."

Harry grinned at Dean and nodded his head before turning and leaving for the Great Hall.  The Gryffindor Common Room was pretty much empty of life, with one small first year curled up on a sofa, her head propped up on her hand, half asleep.  He slipped out quietly, enjoying the peace as he walked alone down the halls and staircases into the Great Hall.  He spotted Ron and Hermione at the top of the Gryffindor table and sank into a seat opposite them both.  "Morning," He offered weakly.

"Meh," Ron said half-heartedly, earning himself a severe look from Hermione.

Two giggling Gryffindor first year girls announced the arrival of Blaise and Draco and Harry propped his head on his left hand, the other reaching out for a piece of toast mechanically.

"Harry, I think you'd better look over your charms homework again," Hermione said loftily, taking some parchment from her bag. "The second paragraph seemed totally disconnected. 'And if I had the use of this charm in every day life, I would use it to stop him from making me do this to myself. It could be useful for cleaning ovens...'" Hermione rolled the page and tapped it pensively against her bottom lip. "What's wrong, Harry?"

Harry plucked the piece of parchment out of Hermione's hand, spreading it out on the table in front of him.  "Oh.. right.. yeah.." He cleared his throat, "I wrote that at around 3am one morning when Ron woke me up with his snoring." 'Liar'.

"I did not," Ron said, but in a puzzled tone rather than a defensive one. "You were doing that at midnight, I remember. You wouldn't come and go to sleep. I was telling you about Malfoy so you told me to go forth and multiply."

"Yeah.  That's what I just said." Harry blinked.

"But I didn't wake you up... Never mind," Ron said, shaking his head. He peered around Harry to where Malfoy and Zabini sat. Parkinson was advancing on them. "But you weren't listening to a word I said. I had some real good dirt on him and now I forgot it."

:

"You had dirt on Malfoy?" Harry looked over his shoulder at what - or rather who - Ron was looking at.

"Plenty, and when I started talking about him you groaned, so I stopped," Ron said, screwing up his face in an attempt to remember.

Harry opened his mouth to reply but was saved as a petite figure with dark red hair appeared and sat down next to him.  "Hi Harry!" greeted Ginny Weasley cheerfully.

Hermione and Ron both smiled and as Ginny sat with them. Ron's face, however, melted into a frown.  "Are you still going out with that ugly kid?" he asked strictly.

Ginny blinked as she reached out a hand to pick up the milk jug.  "Who?"

"Michelov something," Ron said stiffly. 

"Mickey Lovell," Hermione corrected, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, no.  We broke it off last week."  She poured herself a glass of milk.

Now it was Harry's turn to blink.  "You went out with the Ravenclaw keeper?"

"Traitor!" Ron emphasised, pointing a quivering finger at Ginny. "Consorting with the enemy!"

"Oh please, Ron.  He's a nice guy."  Ginny drank the milk in her goblet in one go, without pausing to take a breath.  "You wouldn't have minded if he was a Gryffindor."

"No, but he's a Ravenclaw," Ron said exasperatedly, spreading his hands in despair.

Harry laughed and ran a hand through his messy hair.  "I don't know, Gin.  Ron wasn't too fond of Dean when you went out with him, and he's a Gryffindor."

Ron stared shrewdly at Harry, trying to decide if Harry was supporting him or not.

"Well anyway, I'm with no one at the moment.  That should please you Ron," Ginny said icily.

"Yes," Ron said proudly, then looked down at his cereal.

Ginny scowled and butchered her piece of bacon with her knife ruthlessly.  Poor thing never had a chance.

"Are we still up for Hogsmeade?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione, moving away from Ginny slightly.

"I certainly am," Hermione smiled. "I need that new textbook on Animagus Suspension."

"Is that like animal porn?" Ron asked suspiciously.  Half of the Gryffindor table snorted into their breakfast as Ron voiced that aloud.

Harry cleared his throat, grinning.  "Somehow I don't think so Ron..."

"Ah, alright," Ron said, satisfied. "Well, I'm coming because I have no other friends."

"Can I come?" piped up Ginny.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione nodded enthusiastically before he could say something along the lines of 'No you should be rolled up in cotton wool and put in a padded room'.

"I want to go to the robe shop, and I need your advice!" Hermione beamed.

"So it's settled then?" asked Harry.  "You and Ginny can go robe shopping while Ron and I meet Dean and Seamus."

"Sounds good to me!" Hermione smiled. "So long as Ginny'll carry my bags with me."

Ginny pulled a face, "Do I hav--" Her words were cut off as two more girls joined them at the table, giggling.

"Have you seen Draco this morning?" asked Parvati Patil eagerly.

"Or Blaise," Lavender added.

"Or Blaise," Parvati giggled.

"In fact, both of them together would be great."

Ginny raised an eyebrow at the two girls.  "No, now sod off.  Giggling makes me nauseous."

"OOh, get YOU!" Lavender sniffed. 

Parvati clicked her tongue.  "We weren't asking YOU.  We were asking Harry."  She turned to him with a simpering smile. 

"Er..." Harry looked confused as Ginny made gagging noises.  "Why would I know?"

"Because you and Draco, well... aren't you..." Lavender bent down to whisper conspiratorially. "An item?"

Harry's eyes nearly fell out of his face.  "What?!"

"You and Draco, aren't you together?" Lavender pressed, eyes wide.

Ginny started choking in the background, making her gagging more realistic.  Pansy shot her a withering look.  "Yes Harry, you and Draco.  We know these things."  

Lavender nodded righteously. "It's pretty obvious," she said deprecatingly.

Harry looked panicked and sent a pleading glance at Ron and Hermione.  Hermione and Ron both shook their heads, moving their chairs back.  Harry distinctly mouthed, 'thanks guys' and stood up quickly.  "I really have to go now girls, bye."  He ran out of the Great Hall.

Parvati looked blank for a second then turned to Lavender.  "He's in denial."

Lavender shook her head sadly. "They're so sweet together."

"She clearly missed the brutality and palpable animosity," Hermione murmured to Ron.

Parvati sighed, clasping her hands together.  "True love."

***

Harry strode out of the school tightening his dark red scarf around his neck to fight off the cold.  He balled his hands into fists at his side and continued to walk in the direction of Hogsmeade.

Lavender wrapped her pink-gloved hands around her arms and nestled into her pink woolly scarf as she trotted after Harry. 

"Are you sure?"

Ron growled loudly, stopping in his tracks. "GO AWAY!" he snapped, turning round so that his scarf whipped him in the face.

Harry turned around with his green eyes blazing.  "I am perfectly sure.  If you don't believe me then we can go over there and ask him!" he yelled, pointing in the direction of the Slytherin Quidditch Team practice.

"OOOH can we?" Lavender asked excitedly.

"That's a wonderful idea Harry!" Parvati exclaimed, wrapping her arm around Harry's and beginning to walk.

"Fine," spat Harry.  The quicker they got this over and done with the better in his opinion.  That wasn't to say he didn't like Draco, oh no, far from it.  Harry found himself pushed closer and closer toward the blonde haired Slytherin Prince in nearly every aspect of his Hogwarts life.

"Great!" Lavender exclaimed, leading the way. "You'll need your broom, right?" She almost salivated at the prospect of watching Harry Potter 'in action'.

"Ooh!" Parvati exclaimed excitedly, letting go of Harry to dart ahead to the broom shed.  She found his broom quickly and handed it to him with a wide smile.  Lavender clapped excitedly.

"Uh, thanks," Harry said carefully, taking the broom off Parvati.  He glanced around at the equipment the Slytherins had left on the floor of the pitch and bent down to pick up what looked like a model of a snitch.

With a sharp crack his head shot up, narrowly missing being hit by a bludger.  He followed the path it was taking with his eyes and saw Draco running his hands up a Slytherins arm, unaware of the bludger.

Parvati yelped, grabbing onto Lavender for dear life.  "What was that?!

"OH DEAR!" Lavender exclaimed, putting her mittened hands to her mouth.  She pointed at the heavy Bludger whistling towards Draco in horror.

Ignoring the two squealing girls Harry grabbed hold of his broom and threw his leg over it, grabbing a beaters bat off the floor and jetting up into the game.

"What a hero!" Lavender squealed.  Parvati swooned.

Harry held onto his broom tightly, as the wind dug its fingers under his hands and tried to throw him off.  He'd question why he was doing this later, but all that was on his mind at the moment was one thing: 'get to Draco'.

He sped past a green figure with black hair that wobbled on their broom as he passed.  Holding the beaters bat as tight as he could he drew level with the bludger, reached his arm back and hit it with all his energy.  The bludger careened off course and Draco was saved.  Harry, breathing heavily, dropped the bat to the floor.

Draco sat stiffly, eyes wide. His hair blew about in the slipstream, and it had settled long before he spoke. 

"I smell a rat," he said loudly, back turned to Harry still.

Parvati cheered from her place on the pitch, and jumped up and down excitedly.  "Well done Harry!" she yelled, waving her arms about.

"I think I'm bored of Blaise," Lavender said in an awed tone.

"Malfoy," Harry said through gritted teeth so no one else would hear.  "Aren't you going to say thank you?"

Draco pretended to consider it. "Probably not, because then I'll acknowledge owing you something."

Harry gripped his broom handle tightly.  "So much for saving you from a cracked skull."

"Yes," Draco agreed mildly, finally turning around. "Alright Potter, _thank you_. Happy now?"

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Draco, he shrugged slightly.  "Yeah, I guess."  He pulled into a dive and landed on the floor with his broom in hand.

Draco sat still for a while before flying down more slowly. He put his broom down carefully on top of the ball crate and pulled off his leather gloves. He jogged after Harry and reached out to tap him on the shoulder. Draco held out his hand to the black-haired boy, looking at him warily through half-lidded silver eyes.

"What do you think he's saying?" Lavender whispered to Parvati. She was too far away to hear clearly.

Harry turned to face Draco and looked down at the outstretched hand.  Draco wanted to shake his hand for saving him from the bludger? Harry started to wonder what had happened to Draco over the break since Lucius had been put in Azkaban.  Slowly, he reached out an ice cold hand and slipped it into Draco's.

A shiver ran through the blond boy's body as he gripped Harry's hand too hard. He could pass it off as aggressiveness, he hoped. Draco shook his hand curtly, dropping it and pulling his hand up inside his sleeve. He could still feel Harry's fingers around his own, and finally understood not wanting to wash one's hand ever again.

"Could you see the sparks?" Lavender asked dreamily.

Cien dropped down from her place in the sky as Harry withdrew his hand and put it into his pocket.  She stalked over to Draco and pulled his shoulder back, forcing him to step away from Harry slightly.  "What the hell are you doing?!"

Draco wrenched his eyes from Harry's and looked at Cien's hand on his shoulder. "Can I help you, Mashuga?" he asked distastefully.

"Yeah, Mashuga!" Lavender hissed bitchily.

"What are you doing?!" Screeched Parvati, rushing over to pull Cien away from Harry and Draco.

Cien wrenched herself out of Parvati's grasp, "Draco, if you haven't forgotten, that is Potter.  A Gryffindor," she spat.  "Why are you shaking hands with him?"

"Because he probably just saved my life," Draco explained. "If you'd rather I didn't touch him, then I'll go and hit myself with something heavy."

"Yeah, Mashuga! Would you rather he was dead?" Lavender demanded.

"Not saved your life as such..." Harry said quietly, wondering if this would cause Draco to look at him again.

"He's a Gryffindor! They save and rescue people every day; he didn't do it because it was you.  He did it because he's a Gryffindor and they do stupid pathetic things like that every day," she snarled.

"I'd rather be a Gryffindor than a Slytherin like you," Parvati said, wrinkling her nose.

Draco looked up from Cien's hand finally, into her dark grey eyes, then into Harry's green ones. "But it's my life, and therefore my right to thank him." He held Harry's gaze, feeling lava boiling up inside his chest as he watched him. "Have you ever seen someone take a Bludger to the head Potter? You did just save my life, trust me."

"Yeah, Mashuga!" Lavender hissed. She was rather fond of that phrase now. It gave her a connection with the beautiful Draco. "Stinky Slytherin."

"Oh shut up you pink floozy," Cien shot back, rolling her eyes.  "If you can't think up a better insult you're not worth our time."

Parvati's eyes widened and she took a step towards Cien.  "What did you call her?!"

"Oooh, FLOOZY, am I? Well, I'd rather be a pink floozy than a sallow snake!" Lavender retorted. "Yeah, Mashuga!" she added as an afterthought.

Cien let out a cold laugh, moving away from Draco and Harry who seemed to be frozen in time, looking at each other.  "Alliteration, ooh scary." She flicked the end of Lavender's slightly pointed nose with a long fingernail.  "Go back to mummy."

"Did you bring them out here?" Draco asked Harry heavily. "I thought you were better than that."

Lavender mouthed in shock. She pulled off her mitten and slapped Cien hard across the face. 

"Oh here we go," Draco murmured. He stepped back and picked up his broom, putting it over his shoulder and starting to walk back to the shed, whistling.

Parvati cheered from her place on the sidelines and waved her Gryffindor scarf in the air.  "Wooh! Go Lavender!" She was met by a punch in the face from an extremely angry Cien, an angry red mark on her cheek.

"You BITCH!" Lavender screeched, backhanding Cien viciously.

Harry blinked at the screaming girls and walked backwards slowly, in the same direction of Draco, carrying his Firebolt.  

"Ever had girls fight over you before, Potter?" Draco asked with genuine curiosity.

Cien froze and reached a hand up to where Lavender had hit her.  She scowled and turned her hand into a fist, getting ready to knock Lavender out.  Something cover her hand and she stopped, turning around to come face to face with Blaise Zabini. 

Harry, strangely, blushed.  "Not really..."

"It's rather scary, isn't it?" Draco commented, glancing back. "Oh, Blaise is here. That'll wind them up like clockwork monkeys." The young Malfoy returned to walking nonchalantly.

Cien opened her mouth to say something but Blaise silenced her with a smirk and a finger on her lips.  "You, have done enough damage already today, LaCienega."

Parvati, mouthing wordlessly in the background suddenly burst into tears.  "That's not fair!"

"I KNOW," Lavender snapped, skipping back out of reach.

Harry winced as he heard Parvati burst into tears and looked over his shoulder, "I should go back and..." He tried to think of something to say.  "Do something..." 'Oh, smart move Potter,' he scolded himself.

Draco bit his tongue inside his mouth. "You do that," he said stiffly. "Go and save the day."

Blaise looked over the top of Cien's head to see Draco and Harry walking toward the broom shed together.  He raised an eyebrow and looked back down at Cien, dropping his hands to his sides.  "Go sort the team out.  I'll talk to you later."

He turned away and looked at Parvati and Lavender out of narrowed eyes, "Shoo."

Lavender mouthed angrily, before storming away with her nose in the air.  Parvati followed suit, hips swinging as she left.

"Looks like Zabini's already saved it," Harry commented, shifting his broom to his other hand.

"Oh, hell," Draco spat vehemently. "I can't let those two get together. Think what they could do to me if they joined forces!" He hopped onto his broom in a fluid motion and soared back to them.

Harry reached a hand up to shade his eyes as he watched Draco fly off and caught sight of the time.  'Oh hell, I'm late' He quickly threw his broom into the shed and took off at a run back to where he had left Hermione and Ron at the same time Cien moved away from Blaise and sent the team to clear up their stuff.

"Blaise, I need you to come to Hogsmeade with me," Draco said loudly, gazing at him through meaningfully wide eyes.

"I've been waiting for you there for quite some time already," Blaise replied normally, refusing to take the bait.

"I've been busy," Draco said. "I was just on my way."

Blaise shrugged lightly. "Didn't look like it," he pointed out.

Draco was about to point out heatedly that he was heading for the broomshed, but he rolled his shoulders back. "You're right. Would you accompany me now, though?"

Blaise thought about it, he'd already sat in the Three Broomsticks for long enough by himself.  He glanced around Draco at someone before looking back at his best friend, "Fine."

"Don't feel that you have to," Draco said lightly, pulling his leather gloves back on.

"I have nothing to keep me here," Blaise said, putting gloved hands into his pockets.

"You sure?" Draco asked with a smirk.

Blaise raised an eyebrow, once again refusing to take the bait.  "We'll have to go now if we want to be back before dinner."

"Fair enough," Draco said, buckling his cloak and putting his broom back on his shoulder, walking to the shed without a backwards glance and no acknowledgement of Cien's existence.

Play the Game


	3. Roses of Passion

Play the Game

By Micro-chick and Morgana Malfoy

A/N: Lalalalala… slashness… pairings… blushing Blaise AND Draco… a rumor (or two)… and a kiss…

_Since when was love a game? Draco Malfoy does not play games.  Chess, cards, and quidditch are games.  Love doesn't have rules… right? Therefore it's not a game.  But why are both the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike no longer playing by the rules?_

Chapter three

Draco lifted a book, testing its weight. Discarding it, he flipped open the cover of another. 

"What's going on with you and Cien?" he asked Blaise mildly, taking a small pile of books to the counter.

"Nothing, as far as I know." Blaise shrugged, pulling a book down from the shelf he was stood next to and flicking to the back pages.

Draco rolled his eyes, tapping his foot impatiently. "What's NOT happening, then?"

"The same as what's not happening between you and Potter," Blaise said calmly, eyes scanning the back page.

"Ah," Draco said darkly, flushing and looking at the ceiling to cover it.

Blaise smirked and dropped the book he was holding onto a nearby table without much care.  "You got what you need?"

"Yes," Draco said stiffly, walking with his head high out of the shop. 

Blaise followed him out, re-wrapping his black scarf around his neck.  "Where to next?"

"I'm tired and thirsty and I just saw Morgana and Cien go into the Three Broomsticks," Draco said, pointing through the light fog.

"You're moaning," Blaise pointed out.  "You never moan."

"I'm not moaning, I'm commenting and thinking up an excuse to follow two of the best looking girls in our house."

Blaise laughed, the sound muffled by his scarf.  "I'll come if you're going."

"I'm going," Draco said vehemently, sticking his hands in his pockets, the carrier bag banging against his leg, and walking briskly to the pub.

'Ah,' Blaise thought as he followed Draco into the pub, 'He's mad at me.'

Draco closed his eyes as he walked. It was a straight line after all. Why would Blaise PERSIST in bringing up Potter all the time? Sometimes, Draco didn't feel like talking about it -- if 'sometimes' meant 'all the bloody time'. And the look Blaise gave him whenever he mentioned girls of any kind, like - 'What, you mean, not Potter?'. It was really getting to Draco, so much so that he was determined to do something about it. He pushed the door wide and walked into the steamy warmth of the Three Broomsticks. Immediately, he spotted Cien and her best friend Morgana Ignis at a table in a corner. Draco walked up to them, smiling as warmly as he could. "Mind if I sit with you?"

Cien looked up as Draco entered the pub and nudged Morgana under the table with her elbow, a sign to move up.  "Sure."

"Thanks," Draco smiled. He was about to move to sit next to Morgana, but then thought of Blaise and his annoying habits. A smile curled like a serpent about his lips, and he sat next to Cien. The Malfoy boy snapped his fingers at Madam Rosmerta and pointed at Cien's butterbeer, then held up four fingers.

Blaise walked into the Three Broomsticks a little after Draco and pulled his scarf down, rubbing his hands together to get the circulation going in them again.  Noticing Draco and who he was sat next to at a table he strode over, trying not to say anything that was on his mind at the moment and sat down next to Morgana.  "Hello, Morgi, Cien, Draco."

"Blaise, Draco," Morgana greeted them, smiling slightly and licking the foam from her top lip. "You're damp," she accused Blaise, running a finger down his sleeve, beaded with fog.

Blaise looked at Morgana's finger and raised an eyebrow.  "It's winter."

"I'm still dry," Morgana smirked. 

"It's her sense of humour and my sarcasm. Both can strip paint from driveways," Draco smiled fondly, reaching across the round table to coil a lock of Morgana's bronze hair around a finger.

Cien, catching Blaise's eye, turned away and tried not to laugh.  "Yes, of course."

Morgana pouted and reached out to yank Cien's black hair. "Stop snorting and eye-catching with the wet guy. I'll show you his baby-pictures if you think he's cute now."

A tinge of dark red appeared on Blaise's cheeks and he turned to glare at Morgana.  "And I, in turn, will show Draco your pics."

"I was a wonderful baby," Morgana said confidently, sticking her freckled nose in the air and laughing. "Draco can see whatever he wants of me."

Blaise continued to fight his blush, 'stupid Morgi, being impossible to embarrass,' he thought darkly.  "Oh can he now?"

"Yep."

Draco gave a wolfish grin and tipped his head forwards, letting his hair fall across his face. "I think I might take you up on that, Morgana Rae Valentine.... et cetera."

Cien poked Morgana in the side, slightly annoyed at being left out of the conversation.  "Aren't you going out with Zack?"

"Huh?" Morgana frowned. "I think I was, but he's the sort of guy who'll tape every conversation you have and put it on Sonorus all round the school the next day. I don't trust him. Besides, I hold a torch for Draco." She slipped under the table and reappeared on Draco's side. He laughed and pulled her into his lap.

Draco opened his mouth to ask Morgana about Zack, and froze. A cold jet of air across his face distracted him, and he looked towards the door.

Harry Potter stepped into the Three Broomsticks with Ron by his side, looking across the room to see if he could see Dean or Seamus anywhere.  His eyes landed on a familiar head of blonde hair, and a not-so-familiar bronze sat in his lap.  He frowned as he tried to think of which expression could go with what he was feeling now and determinedly walked past the Slytherins sat at the table, Ron slightly behind him.

'I will not look at him, I will not look at him, I will-damn I'm looking.  Sneer and walk off.'  Harry, instead, looked at Draco with a confused expression before he was gone into the back of the pub to meet Seamus and Dean.

"Pot-head," Morgana sniffed. "I like his arse in those jeans, though. It's practically sticking out of the top."

Draco nodded blankly, filled with an icy self-hate. Potter had given him a confused look. 'Oh my God, Draco's got a girl on his lap. How on earth did that come about?'. Why does everyone think of me like that?

Cien blinked and raised a hand to her cheek where an angry purple bruise was forming from when Lavender had back-handed her.  Was there something between Potter and Draco?

"Honey, are you alright?" Morgana asked, reaching out to touch the bruise with a black fingernail. "Stupid Gryffindor bint."

Cien scowled.  "Yeah, I'm fine.  Shame I didn't hit her back though."

"Ladies don't hit other ladies," Blaise murmured from Cien's other side.

Morgana smiled, catching Blaise's eye. 'It's snowy outside,' she thought, hoping he would catch the point. 'I think someone needs a kiss.' Of course, he couldn't hear her, but they'd known each other so long that it seemed not to matter.

Draco tightened his arm around Morgana's waist as the look on Potter's face replayed through his head again and again. She squeaked as he started crushing her, and turned around. "Sorry," he muttered. "Sorry."

Blaise looked back at Morgana with a thoughtful expression and took a sip from his butterbeer.  "Draco, crushing Morgi might be a bad idea, you know."

"Well, that's a shame, isn't it?" Draco shrugged. He shifted Morgi further up his lap and put his hands behind him, leaning back. 

Blaise turned his head to the side slightly, before getting up and holding a hand out to Cien.  "I need to get back to the castle, want to come with?" She hesitated before taking his hand and following him out of the Three Broomsticks into the mild snowstorm.

Morgi whooped and slipped into Cien's seat. "Finally got them to go." She held out her palm to Draco, who high-fived it with a grin. 

"Those two are just... dense," Draco said, after pondering for a word.

'Why do I listen to Morgana anyway?' Blaise wondered as he bent his head against the harsh wind blowing snowflakes, unconsciously holding Cien's hand tighter.  Most of the time listening to his cousin just got him in worse trouble than in the first place.  He scowled slightly and brushed some snowflakes out of his dark hair with a hand that was almost completely frozen into an ice cube.

He caught sight of Cien walking by his side, remembering something from a long time ago that she liked the snow.  This fact was confirmed as she reached out a black gloved hand to catch some falling snowflakes, like a child fascinated by their first sighting of something amazing.

Moving his gaze up to her face he noticed the purple bruise on her cheek again, from where Lavender had slapped and then back-handed her.  The hits hadn't fazed Cien, who had once been knocked unconscious by a bludger, but they were going to leave a dark bruise that would last for some time.

He reached his free hand up to her cheek and they stopped, facing one another with the snow falling around.

"Blaise?" She asked quietly, trying not to wince as he ran a thumb gently over the mark on her cheek.

"She shouldn't have hit you," he replied, turning to look from her cheek to her dark grey eyes.  He moved his hand slowly to her chin, and titled it up as she closed her eyes slightly, a single snowflake falling onto her lips.  "You're too precious to be hurt."

He leaned down and kissed her softly as the snow continued to fall, heavier than before, turning the surrounding scenery a brilliant white colour.

"Can you see them?" Morgana demanded urgently, pressing her cheek against the window. 

Draco laughed. "What is it with you and matchmaking?" 

"Well, I'm so useless with my own life that I take great pleasure in fixing up everyone else's," Morgana answered, casting a smile back at him. "I think he just kissed her!" she said excitedly. 

"That's nice," Draco said quietly. He sat back and watched Morgi's childlike delight at making her cousin and Cien finally get together - or at least partly. She sat on the leather seat under the window, legs folded up and breath steaming against the glass as she struggled to see through the thickening blur of snow. 'Father thought it would be such a good idea for Morgana and I to get together,' he remembered. 'Nice, pureblooded, rich, sensible, attractive, high-born wife for me,' he thought bitterly. 'I adore her, but...' Draco shook his head slightly. He would be lucky to marry Morgana, and the way Lucius and her father were planning it, it also seemed very likely.

***

Draco shook himself. "How long have they been out there? They must be cold." He stood up, hardly knowing where he was going, and walked around their table to the door. He whipped his cloak from the coatstand and it rocked slowly, falling with a crash onto the table next to it. Draco turned to say sorry, but his heart gave a leap as he saw it was Potter & Co. 

"Oh hell, you again?" he drawled nastily, pulling his cloak about his shoulders.

Harry jumped slightly as the coatstand landed on his table and shot around to see Malfoy.  "Jesus Malfoy, what was that for?"

"Draco Malfoy, actually. It was an accident," he snapped, not feeling in the mood to bargain with Potter.

"What? Did your bighead hit it accidentally?" Seamus asked, putting his butterbeer down and rubbing his nose.

"Yes, probably. Did your big mouth accidentally catch on Potter's dick to make him so sickeningly happy?"

Harry choked slightly and put a hand to his mouth, glaring at Draco.    "So what if he has?"

Draco raised his eyebrows mildly. "I'm saying nothing. Have you caught your equally big mouth on his?"

"There is someone else I'd prefer to kiss instead," is what Harry wanted to say.  What came out instead was - "Sod off, Malfoy."

"Gladly. Not really my plan to stay and chat anyway."

"So why didn't you just leave?" Ron demanded shrilly. "You could just leave outright!"

"But then I wouldn't be provided with the entertainment of mocking you lot," Draco said simply. He felt arms slide around his waist and tensed, then smelt Morgana's scent. This could be quite funny. 

Seamus wrinkled his nose.  "Yes, the same thing you have been doing for the past what, six years while the rest of us have been maturing? That gets old, Malfoy."

"You, maturing?" Morgana sniffed. "Little boys who still play with themselves should not talk of maturing."

"Morgi..." Draco said quietly, turning his lips to her ear. 

She nodded. "I'm off." She kissed his cheek and took her cloak and scarf from the rail, pulling it upright again and walking out into the snow.

"She can leave, why can't you?" Seamus asked.

"Because I knocked over a hatstand onto your table," Draco answered truthfully, walking out.

"Git." Seamus picked up his butterbeer and began to drink it again; eyes narrowed at the door Draco had just left through.

Draco stuck his hands in his pockets before stepping out from under the porch of the Three Broomsticks and into the softly falling snow. It settled on his lashes and in his hair, brushing his forehead and cheekbones. Draco felt like a young child again, and kicked snow up as he walked over to the black bundle in the whiteness that was Cien and Blaise. 

Blaise pulled back from Cien slightly and brushed some black hair from her forehead.  He looked over his shoulder as a cold wind blew, remembering the whole reason he was in Hogsmeade: to shop with Draco.  The guy that just so happened to be coming out of the Three Broomsticks now towards them.

Draco ducked his head and shook some snow from his hair. He blinked heavily. 

"Are you ready?" he asked Blaise, nodding to Cien.

Blaise smiled slightly, arms still around Cien who was looking at Draco with narrowed eyes.  "I guess so.  You don't mind if I go?" he asked Cien.

She shook her head slightly, "Not at all."  Standing up on tiptoes she kissed him softly before leaving to head back to the castle.  Blaise watched her leave then turned to Draco, "Shall we?"

"Yes, please. I'm getting a cold nose," Draco confessed. "Did it feel like taking a dump after eating curry?" he asked curiously after a moment's silence.

Blaise looked - for probably the first time in his life - completely confused, dark eyebrows knitted together and pale lips raised slightly at one corner.  "What?"

"Was it a bloody relief to finally kiss the girl?" Draco exploded, spreading his arms wide and grinning.

"Naturally," Blaise replied as he smiled at Draco, whose hair was the same colour as the snow they were stood on.

"It was like shitting a pineapple watching you two," Draco drawled. "Did you see which way Morgana went?"

"Not that you've ever shitted a pineapple."  Blaise looked from the snow, to Draco's hair, to the Three Broomsticks, and back at Draco.  "Not since I left with Cien."

"Alright then," Draco shrugged. "And when you're as offensive as me, people cast some _vicious_ curses on you." He shuddered.

"You're in a random mood." Blaise stamped his feet on the snow and began to walk from the grass and onto the path back to Hogsmeade.

"I'm in a good mood," Draco protested, squinting up at the sky. "I love the snow."

"So does Cien," Blaise replied, shivering slightly against the cold.  "Where did you want to go again?"

"How about Dervish and Banges?"

"Can we stop at Perfect Petals on the way? I need to get Morgi and Cien something for Christmas."

"Good point," Draco said, snapping his fingers. "It's before Dervish's, right?"

"Yeah, across from Scrivenshaft's," Blaise reminded him as he continued to stamp his feet on the path.  "Can we go? I'm going to freeze."

"All right," Draco nodded, shaking his head again before setting off. "Do you think I should send Potter a black rose?"

"That would be interesting to say the least." Blaise tried to imagine Potter's face when he recived a black rose off a secret admirer.  "Maybe a white one?" he suggested.  "He is pure afterall."

"White rose... That's better." Draco grinned evilly at Blaise. "You're good at this. I can get my quill in Scrivenshaft's too."

"I guess adding blood would be a bit much?" Blaise asked with an innocent smile.  "Zonko's is only one down, I'm sure they'd have some fake blood or something of the like."

Draco looked puzzled. "If I want to put blood on it, I'll use my own." He sounded affronted.

"How romantic in an 'I love you so much I cut myself' kind of way," Blaise commented.

"I didn't mean it to be romantic," Draco snapped, taking a small flight of stone steps two at a time and stopping at the top. "It's a family tradition... I thought that was what you meant. If you want to tell someone you hate them, you send them a rose. If you want to tell them how much it hurts you to hate them, you put blood on it. The blood's part of a challenge and a bonding between the two people. If the recipient touches the blood, then they're linked to you until your hatred is resolved. That is, one of the two dies or they make friends." Draco flushed slightly, turning to push the door of Perfect Petals open and walking inside with his head down.

"Your family has interesting traditions." Blaise ducked his head as he walked into Perfect Petals, the door shutting behind him quietly as the overwhelming smell of flowers attacked him.

"It's more than just my family. We're related to most of the Purebloods in the country, so it's probably in your family code too," Draco said reasonably, sniffing a carnation with a slight sneer.

"And the Weasleys?" Blaise asked with distaste colouring his voice.

"Not them," Draco said languidly, taking a lollipop from his pocket and unwrapping it. "Somehow, they've managed to avoid our family completely." He put the lolly into his mouth and sucked it as he ran his hands over the smooth outsides of a display of peace lilies.

Blaise walked over to some bright yellow daffodils.  "I'm hopeless with flowers," he said to Draco as he stroked one of the petals.  "Do you think Morgi would like these?"

"No," Draco said, without looking. He pointed at a display of steel-blue snapdragons. "She likes those."

He looked askance at Blaise. "I thought you were her cousin."

"I told you before, I'm hopeless with flowers." He moved over to the snapdragons and got an assitant to get him a bunch, walking away from Draco to to the counter to get them wrapped and priced up.

Draco shrugged and walked over to a display of white flowers. He smiled slightly as he fingered the petals of a white rose. The boy glanced round at Blaise before picking the rose up and clasping it in his hands to breathe deeply of its scent. He gasped as a needle-sharp thorn pierced his finger and blood welled up, running down his finger with surprising speed. He dropped the rose and lifted his finger to look at it curiously. Were there arteries in fingers, he wondered. There was a gentle spattering as blood ran from his wrist onto the rose petals, and Draco swapped his lolly for his finger, sucking the blood away. 

He wiped his hand clean with his cloak and went over to the counter. "You ready to go?" he asked Blaise, sucking his own finger.

"Yeah, come on." Blaise, now carrying to bunches of flowers opened the door open for Draco and walked out into the snow.

Harry Potter stood in the shadow of one of the displays of flowers for Christmas, watching Draco and Blaise and ignoring Ron who was fretting over which kind of flowers to buy Ginny.  He stepped forward and bent down, picking up the pale white rose, now splattered with Draco's blood.  Carefully, not really understanding why, he reached out two fingers and touched the blood on the soft petals delicately, lifting his thumb and forefinger up to his eyes he frowned slightly, rubbing them together then dropping the rose to his side as he looked at the now closed door.

"So, do you think pink flowers are good?" Ron was asking loudly. He marched over to Harry. "Oh, nice roses... Did you cut yourself?" he asked, looking at the bloody rose and Harry's fingers.

"No, I'm fine," Harry said quietly as he finally looked away from the door, still holding the rose in his hand.

"Oh, some poor bugger cut their finger instead," Ron guessed. "Harry.... Harry?"

"Oh, some poor bugger cut their finger instead," Ron guessed. "Harry.... Harry?"

"Mm?" Harry replied distractedly, running a thumb over the rose.

"Are you alright? Did Cho just leave or something?" Ron asked, half-joking, half very concerned.

"No, no.  It's... nothing." Harry dropped the rose to the ground and walked over to the door.  "I think Ginny will like pink flowers," he said helpfully before leaving. 

"Pink.....Okay," Ron frowned, grabbing a bunch randomly and dumping them on the counter. 

Harry walked out of the door and stood in the cold air, swaying slightly, and staring at the dried blood on his finger and thumb, the rose still clutched in his right hand.

"Do you think I should get that one?" Draco asked Blaise, pointing to a green, viciously sharp quill in the Scrivenshafts' window display.

Blaise wrinkled his nose in distaste and placed a hand on the door, preparing to walk into the shop.

"What's wrong with it?" Draco demanded, spreading his arms as he was left alone in the snow. He flicked his scarf over his shoulder and scowled. The blond boy realised he was being watched, and his head snapped around to see Potter at the top of the steps to Perfect Petals, a bloody white rose in his hand.


	4. Merry Christmas

Play the Game

By Micro-chick and Morgana Malfoy

A/N: 

_Since when was love a game? Draco Malfoy does not play games.  Chess, cards, and quidditch are games.  Love doesn't have rules… right? Therefore it's not a game.  But why are both the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike no longer playing by the rules?_

Chapter four

"What's wrong with it?" Draco demanded, spreading his arms as he was left alone in the snow. He flicked his scarf over his shoulder and scowled. The blond boy realised he was being watched, and his head snapped around to see Potter at the top of the steps to Perfect Petals, a bloody white rose in his hand.

Draco stared blankly at Harry, registering the rose and the blood on his hands with a jolt of panic. 

"What are you looking at?" he snapped, jerking his chin up.

"I'm..." Harry looked slightly bewildered himself, as he finally registered the fact he was outside in the freezing cold snow with a bloody white rose clutched in his right hand.  "I'm lost," he said quietly, chin dropping to his chest as he stepped off the step outside Perfect Petals.  He walked over to Draco slowly, battered trainers crunching in the snow.  He stopped in front of the boy and lifted his head, looking at him out of emerald green eyes that stood out against the pale backdrop, Harry lifted his hand up and held out the bloody rose to Draco.

"It's yours."

Draco stared at it for a while. He lifted his eyes solemnly.

"How do you know it's mine?" he asked Harry, slightly narrowing his silvery eyes.

"Because I saw you drop it," Harry said softly, still looking at Draco with his green eyes betraying his innocence.

"Fair enough," Draco shrugged. His eyes seemed magnetised to Harry's fingers, bloody as they were. Draco reached out a hand slowly for the rose, but his muscles protested and dropped his hand so that when he gripped the stem of the flower, he gripped Harry's hand. Draco started violently at the chill skin beneath his palm, but made no move to let go. 

"Why have you brought it back to me, Potter?" he demanded, trying to retain some dignity.

"Because it's yours," Harry replied with a small smile, not really noticing as Draco's hand closed around his own.  "It's beautiful, and destroying it would be cruel."

Draco felt a sudden rush of indignant anger at the injustice of this world, and frustration at Potter's insistence that things are beautiful and not cruel and twisted. A bead of ice formed from the dew on the rose tinkled against his hand, and he looked up through suddenly stormy eyes. 

"Even the most beautiful things can wither away and die, Potter," he said coldly, lifting his hand and crushing the head of the rose in his palm. 

Harry dropped his hand, eyes moving away from Draco's face.  "Not if you believe.  Not if you trust.  Not if," he fell silent, not willing to go on.  "I'm sorry that's how you think."  With a shrug he turned and walked away from Draco, holding the now crushed and bloody rose, the setting making him look truly like an Ice Prince.

Draco wanted to shout that he didn't _want_ to think that way, but it wouldn't make sense. He lifted his hand and ran his finger down his icy, bloody palm. 

"Potter..."

Harry stopped with his back still to Draco and turned his head slightly to the side, breath coming over his shoulder in icy clouds.  "I don't want to hear it, Malfoy.  Just... leave me alone."  He began to walk again, and disappeared into Perfect Petals with the tinkling of the bell above the door.

"I'll be seeing you around," Draco finished in a steaming whisper. "I guess I'm not allowed to get away from you."

Blaise was tired of waiting for Draco.  For the second time today he had been left by himself while his friend ran off and got distracted by doing something else.  'Wait.. last time it was Potter..' Blaise turned sharply, robes flying out and pushed the door open, taking in what he was seeing almost immediately.  

"Draco, are we going to finish shopping or what?" he asked, ignoring the crushed rose and blood, they weren't visible from the angle he was stood at anyway.

"Oh, yeah," Draco said, turning back to go into the shop.

***

Blaise and Draco had walked around the shops for a long time after Draco's encounter with Harry.  Blaise had noticed the bloody rose, but tactfully decided to ignore it; if Draco wanted to explain, he would explain.  

Finally, weighed down by bags of all shapes and sizes, Draco and Blaise staggered into the Slytherin Common Room which was - despite being a Hogsmeade weekend - habiting quite a few people.  

Blaise proceeded to drop his bags at the foot of the green sofa near the fire and sat down, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

Draco tugged a new charcoal grey shirt out of one of his bags and ripped the labels out viciously.

"You know what I hate about Potter?" he demanded loudly, throwing the shirt onto a chair and pulling another from another bag.

"Enlighten me," Blaise drawled as his hands warmed up enough to pull a midnight-blue quill out of one of his many bags.

"The fact that he's an idiot," Draco said vehemently. "And that he just invoked a family curse - a wizards' honour rite."

Blaise raised an eyebrow.  "Invoked a family curse? But," he paused, remembering he rose, Draco's face, the blood, it all slotted into place.  "Oh.  So, what next?" he asked weakly.

"I don't know," Draco said with a hiss of exhaled breath. He threw himself onto his back on a sofa. "I don't know what happens. I'll ask father when I visit him."

"You're going to ask Lucius, about Potter."  Blaise scratched his chin with the quill before dropping it back into one of the bags carelessly.  "I don't see that going down well - at all." He sighed, "Even if you change 'Potter' to 'Love of my life' or something.  It's not called a curse for nothing, right?"

"I'm going to ask father about the blood rite," Draco amended. "It's not really a curse unless you hate the person you're linked with. Anyway, I'm the heir. I'm meant to know all the rules. I can slip it in with some other things..." But it was a lot easier said than done.

"But you do hate him.  Or, at least, you used to."  Blaise's voice was uncertain, he hadn't really gotten to know Draco that much until the recent summer holiday, and the beginning of this year.

"So it's a curse," Draco sighed heavily, linking his hands behind his head. "He's such an idiot."

"Who crushed the rose?" Blaise asked idly, moving so his legs were spread out along the sofa, crossed at the ankle.  "Would you want to break the connection with Potter?"

"I crushed it," Draco replied. "He gave me some waffle about it being too beautiful to destroy. I told him the truth," the blond boy said with a vicious sneer. "And of course I bloody would."

"You can't tell Lucius," Blaise said quietly.  "Voldemort is after Potter, if word gets out that the son of one of his favourite Death Eaters' has a Wizards Bond with Potter, a curse, he would use it against Potter.  Against you.  It wouldn't matter to him so long as Potter dies."

"It wouldn't hurt me," Draco said mildly. "It would be the perfect way to get rid of Potter." 

He sat up, looking at Blaise so fiercely that the dark-haired boy could hardly meet his eyes. "Which is why not a word will be spoken."

Blaise nodded mutely, fingering his soft robes lightly.  He wondered briefly if he should say anything, but was saved as two lumbering forms wobbled into the room.  Blaise barely held back the groan that threatened to come out as he saw who it was.  "Hello Crabbe, Goyle."

Crabbe looked blankly at Blaise. "Yeah," he grunted. 

Goyle nodded at the bags around Blaise and Draco before mumbling, "Presents?"

"No, Goyle," Draco answered with a sigh. "Just multi-packs of toilet paper and pink lipstick in bulk-form."

"But why would you want..." Crabbe stopped, confused.

"Oh," Goyle said stupidly.  "Have fun."  He blinked.  "Wait, I didn't know you wore lipstick."

"I don't wear lipstick," Draco snapped. "Yes, they're all presents, at least half of which are for me."

"That's nice."  Goyle smiled, but with his cheeks as chubby and round as they were, it was hard to tell.

"I might have remembered to get something for you," Draco answered Crabbe's slowly-forming question. 

Crabbe found it hard to deal with possibilities. "But what if you didn't?" he asked, looking with a slightly animal panic at Draco.

"I already did, don't worry," Draco groaned, closing his eyes.

"He means that yes, he has got you a present," Blaise said mildly, wondering vaguely how Crabbe and Goyle had managed to pull through their O.W.Ls.

"What have I got?" Goyle asked eagerly.  "Is it edib... edi... ed... can I eat it?"

Draco groaned loudly. "Yes, it's edible."

"Boys, don't trouble the Slytherin Lords," Morgana said mildly, parting the two giants to stand between them and loop an arm around the waist of each. "I'm sure they find it hard to cope with your outstanding intellect for more than three minutes at a time."

"You're telling me," Draco muttered. He flashed a wink at Morgana in total gratitude.

"What did you get for me?" she asked, tipping her head to one side.

"It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you," Draco said with a smirk.

Blaise groaned, hanging his head off the back of the sofa.  He could have sworn Morgana was following them.  "If you two are going to be like this again, please notify me earlier so I can leave the room."

Morgana's nose wrinkled and she frowned. "You appreciate nothing, Zabini," she said in a wounded voice, detaching herself from Crabbe and Goyle and walking away. 

Blaise sighed; Morgana would probably go in a strop with him for days now.  Oh well, he'd just not give her her Christmas present unless she was talking to him again.  

Goyle rubbed his eyes with podgy fingers, this conversation had gone way to fast for him, he was lost from the moment Morgana had arrived.  "Is it dinner yet?"

"Yes, if you start walking now and get lost the usual amount of times, you should make it," Draco said with a tolerant smile. 

"Okay, does that mean we go now?" Crabbe asked, nodding.

"Yes!" Draco exclaimed, delighted at his comprehension.

"Would you like to come with us?" Goyle asked.

Blaise brushed some hair out of his eyes, looking at Crabbe and Goyle upside down.  "No, I believe we'll get there before you anyway."

Goyle looked at Blaise and took a step back; just looking at the other boy upside down was making him dizzy.  "Is that a yes?"

Blaise groaned.  "No."

"We'll pass. Got to wrap up your presents," Draco said with false glee, rubbing his hands together.

"Oh yes!" Blaise said, even managing a smile.  "Seeing your presents would ruin the surprise."

"Surprise?" Goyle sounded interested and walked out of the Common Room, managing to not trip on his way out.

"Okay," Crabbe shrugged, following him. 

Draco punched the air when they left and sat back again. "So what do you think I should do?"

"Kill them with a really big pointy stick." Blaise grinned.

"No, a blunt one. Let them suffer."

"Or poison a cupcake."

"Nice," Draco commented, nodding.

Blaise laughed, swinging his legs back onto the stone floor and sitting up properly.  "If you could have anything this Christmas, what would you have?" he asked randomly as he searched through one of his bags.

"An easy life," Draco answered promptly.

"Within reason."

"Not even that, necessarily. I hate confusion and Potter."

"The feeling may be mutual." Blaise scratched his nose and coughed.  "I think I'm getting a cold."

"You shouldn't have stood out in the snow so long," Draco, a boy immune to illness and anything demeaning, commented archly. "Maybe if you hadn't had your tongue down Cien's throat you'd have remembered how cold it was. Or maybe you caught something from her..."  He allowed himself an exclusive smirk at his own wit and started going through his shopping bags again, picking out odd things and putting them in other bags to get it all into some semblance of order.

"Meh." Blaise waved a hand dismissively and stopped rooting around in the bags, apparently satisfied.

"I spent a lot of breath saying that!" Draco objected. "You could at least look embarrassed."

Blaise shrugged, "I don't get embarrassed often, and not over snogging a girl."

"A rather annoying girl," Draco emphasised. "I think I have to drag her out to Quidditch practice too early tomorrow."

"She'd probably be dragging you," Blaise commented, stretching his arms above his head.

"Oh, we'll see about that," Draco purred, stretching. "I can get up as early as the next man."

***

The tiny portholes of green-stained glass running along the very top of the dormitory walls were frosted with a lace-work of ice so delicate that it shamed the finest fairy-weavers. Fresh snow had lain a blanket on the grounds during the night so that all was peaceful and quiet. Sleigh bells jingled in the distant Hogsmeade and the smells of mince pies and brandy butter wafted from the chimneys of the underground kitchens. Merry fireplaces crackled in all the rooms of the castle and beautiful decorations adorned every surface.

Draco stared broodingly into the flames, the tiny shards of light reflecting from the green tinsel playing over his face. He was alone, and not happy about it. Blaise had gone home for Christmas, as had most of the others, but he had received an owl from his mother saying she was going to visit Aunt Katrina and cousin Veneficus. 'Dumped on Christmas, just like Potter,' he thought sulkily. He had no desire to touch his three bulging stockings, his tumbling piles of letters or the enormous stack of gifts at the foot of his bed, preferring instead to sulk and believe that he was completely unwanted.

With a smooth swooshing sound a golden-brown owl swooped down into the room and onto Draco's lap where it held out a leg, a roll of parchment attached and sealed with the Zabini family crest.

Draco sighed, taking the roll from the owl and peeling it open. He may as well start somewhere...

'_Dear Draco  ...it read..._

_Knowing that you most probably will be moping right now, I decided that I wouldn't leave my present at Hogwarts and have you open it with the rest of your presents as you feel unwanted._

_I'll give you your present when I get back later tonight.  Yes, I am coming back to Hogwarts tonight, there have been a few.. 'Complications' and both mother and father need to go away.  It's already sorted with Dumbledore; I should be back by seven, latest._

_Just so you know, you are _not_ unwanted._  Trust me.__

_Have fun while you can and enjoy yourself; eat some Christmas dinner and for gods sake shag Potter silly already.  No, seriously, try and have fun today.  After all, it is Christmas._

_-Blaise'_

Draco's mouth lifted with a reluctant smile as he turned over the page to write a brief reply. 

_'Blaise_

_I'll save some cake for you, and promise to wait to open my presents. I should perhaps inform you that you also have a sizeable stack awaiting your return._

_~Draco M._'

He flicked his wand at a stocking bulging with chocolate, and tucked in as he read through the rest of his letters.

***

On the other side of the school, in a suitably more red and gold boys' dorm, filled to the brim with students of all shape, size and gender Harry Potter was opening his Christmas presents.

"Hey Ron?" He called over the chatter and noise which filled the room, "Thanks!"

"You missed one!" Ron yelled, hurling a brown-wrapped parcel across the room. "And you're welcome!"

Seamus ducked, scooting across the floor and away from the flying parcels.  He came to a halt next to Dean with a grin, wearing a tinsel 'crown' "Happy Christmas," he said happily, handing a dark blue parcel to his friend.

Harry laughed, plucking the parcel out of the air.  He dropped it into his lap and pushed his glasses up his nose, searching for a label or note to see who it was from.  Finding none, he opened the package slowly, careful not to rip the note that was probably inside.  A small green leather case fell out, followed by a small note which went unnoticed as Harry picked up the case for closer inspection.  It was amazingly smooth and soft, and very expensive.  He dusted his hands off on his pyjama's and flicked the small silver button on the front, opening the case to reveal a startling silver watch. 

The note read:

'_Mr__ Harry Potter_

_Though I am doubtless of your considerable intelligence, I should tell you that this watch is not just your ordinary Muggle time-keeping item. It will hold everything you need to know - an alarm, lesson plans, time to eat, dates and meetings and sometimes matters of the heart. All these, it can tell you when it's time. I hope it serves you well.' It was unsigned._

Harry picked up the note distractedly, scanning through it quickly, a smile appearing his lips. 'Dumbledore.'

  
"Thanks mate," Dean grinned, thrusting a plastic carrier bag in Seamus' hands. He ripped the paper off his package and beamed. "Hey Harry, what have you got there?"  
  
Harry showed him the watch, not really paying attention.  Ginny was lay on his bed, head up on her arms and fire red hair down, she blushed slightly as she saw him and dropped a parcel on his head. "Harry Christmas, Harry."  
  
Ron roared with laughter, pointing at Ginny.  "Harry Christmas... That's a cracker. Gettit? Cracker!"  
  
Dean looked flatly at Ron, raised his eyebrow to Seamus and shook his head.  
  
Seamus snickered, turning his head away to unwrap his present off Dean. Ginny flushed bright red, burying her head in the covers.   Maybe she wasn't as over Harry as she had first            thought.  "Go away Ron," she mumbled into the cover. Snapping the watch on his wrist Harry rolled his eyes at Ron.  "You sound like Fred and George."  
  
"All in one?" Ron asked with a grin. "Who's the watch from?" he asked, looking at the exquisite item with curiosity.  
  
"No idea." Harry rubbed the glass over the hands fondly, examining the watch closer.  An excited yell from the other side of the room their attention as Seamus tackled Dean, shouting           something along the lines of: "YOU GOT ME ONE! YOU DID IT! YOU GOT IT! WOW! YOU'RE THE BEST!"  
  
Ron raised an eyebrow critically, murmuring, "Okay," and returning his attention to Harry's watch. "An admirer?"

  
"I know I'm the best!" Dean beamed, ducking before his head smashed a vase.  "Uh oh, too late," he added, as Seamus' foot went right through the pottery.  
  
"You're the best alright!" Seamus yelled, beaming with happiness.  So happy in fact, that      he didn't notice his foot going through the vase.  "I thought all the Ireland Vs. New Zealand tickets were sold out!" He exclaimed, sitting on Dean's chest and hugging the tickets in his arms.

Harry blinked and let out a small laugh before returning to his talk with Ron.  "An admirer? Doubt it.  From the way the note is written it sounds like Dumbledore."  
  
"They're all gone now," Dean grinned. "I got the last two on the PLANET." He coughed, finding it hard to breathe.

"Why would Dumbledore send you a watch?" Ron asked curiously. "It seems a little fashionable for the dude in the dress."  
  
Harry shrugged and passed Ron the note, still fondly rubbing the glass on it.  "See for            yourself."  
  
"It doesn't look like his handwriting, either," Ron said thoughtfully, as though he  a great expert on Headmaster Handwriting.  "Though I swear I've seen it before..."  
  
"I'll ask him at dinner then," Harry said, as if closing the matter.  He folded it and put it into the pocket of his pyjama top, making a mental note to remember it was there.  
  
Seamus, still sat on Dean's chest, glanced over at Ron and Harry.  "Has Harry got a secret admirer?" he called.

"I think so," Ron replied. "He thinks it's Dumbledore....Wait, that sounded wrong."

Dean howled with laughter, heaving Seamus off his chest and sitting up. "Dumbledore's after Harry?"

"Baaaaad mental place," Ron rebuked Dean, covering his ears and screwing his eyes shut.

Seamus started laughing loudly and collapsed against his bed as Harry starting blushing madly, glasses slipping down his nose.

"Maybe now's a good time to get dressed," he said hurriedly as he pushed up off the floor and dropped the green watch case to the ground, fleeing into the bathroom.

Harry shut the door firmly behind him, closing off his connection with the dormitory where the rest of the boys were still laughing.   Letting out a soft exhale, he leaned back against the door and shut his eyes. 'Why me? Why do I have to get the present with the mysterious note? Why do I have to have a secret admirer?'

A small part of him hoped feebly that maybe the note was off Draco, but he knew that there was a very small chance of that happening.  Since the incident with the bloody rose, Harry and Draco had barely seen each other, what with Quidditch practices and Occlumency, Harry hardly had any spare time.  Why was he even thinking about his arch-nemesis while his friends laughed and joked happily back in there?

Lifting his head just so he could let it fall back against the door with a dull, lifeless thump, Harry opened his pained green eyes and sighed. "Idiot," he whispered to himself.

Seamus coughed, out of breath from laughing so hard.  He tried to imagine Dumbledore writing a love letter to Harry and nearly keeled over laughing again.

Ron snatched the note the moment Harry left the room. "For some reason, it makes me think of Potions," he snapped distastefully. This term was not good; Ron was sat next to Malfoy in one of two lessons. "I hope it wasn't Snape!"

"Oh hell me too," Dean agreed fervently,

Seamus started coughing again and collapsed against his  bed.  "That's just scary," he added.  "I mean, Snape's so greasy, if you tried to kiss him he'd like... slide right off."

"Aww, NO!" Ron yelled, pulling his pillow over his head. Dean was laughing so hard that he couldn't breathe. He took the note. 

"I bet it's Pansy Parkinson," he said, nodding righteously.  
  
Seamus took a deep breath, puffing his face out in an obvious impersonation of Pansy Parkinson.  "Oh Harry my hero!" he warbled, slightly red in the face.

Dean rolled onto his back, kicking his legs in hysteric laughter. 

"The poor sod," Ron murmured. Somehow, he didn't find it that funny. 

"Leave Harry alone!" Ginny exclaimed from her place on Harry's bed after finally getting over her laughter.  

"Oh, push off," Dean grinned, gripping the edge of the bed for support. "It's funny!"

Ron nodded blankly, trying to force a smile from his frown of confusion. He recognised that writing. 

_"Oh, what are you doing, Weasel?" Malfoy drawled in exasperation, snatching the mashed caterpillar livers from Ron's bowl with a spoon and adding horsefly bile carefully with a lethally thin pipette._

_"I was doing fine!" Ron protested. Draco gave him a withering look and grabbed a scrap of parchment, writing out the recipe in great detail before returning to his task...._

Ron leapt to his feet and began throwing aside wrapping paper, trying to find his trunk.

A stray piece of wrapping paper landed on Seamus' head and he frowned at the sudden darkness before pulling it off his head and glancing around the room to see who had thrown it.  "Ron, are you ok?"

"No, Seamus, not at all..." Ron called back, hurling socks aside as he threw back the lid of his trunk and delved into it deeply. 

Ginny swung her pale legs over the side of the bed and stood up, tying her hair up with a stray piece of tinsel.  She picked up her pile of presents and staggered to the door.  "I'm going to drop these off and get changed, I'll see you all at the table!" With that she was gone; the fluffy white rabbit tail on the back of her pyjama's the last thing to disappear through the door.

Seamus stood up and walked over to Ron.  He tried to peer over his shoulder, but found he couldn't, with Ron having shot up even more over the summer.  "What's up?"

"I think I recognise the handwriting, and I don't like it," Ron hissed, scrabbling through stacks of parchment at the bottom of his case for the potions work. 

Seamus shrugged, turning away from Ron to face Dean and mouthing 'I think someone's jealous'.  He grinned and bounced over to his own trunk.

Dean nodded solemnly. He puffed out his cheeks and mouthed - with difficulty - "I love you, really, Ron!"

Still Ron dug feverishly. Eventually, he pulled out a strip of parchment that was spotted with lime green bile. The spidery, affected handwriting was incredibly similar to the note he held crushed in his palm. 'Not Draco,' he pleaded silently. 'Not Malfoy.'

Cautiously, Harry's head peeked around the door to the bathroom.  "Is it safe to come back in?"

"Yeah," Dean answered. Ron just stared at Harry open-mouthed.

Relief flooded Harry's face as he wandered the room.  He paused for a second as he caught the look on Ron's face.  "What? Do I have some toothpaste on my chin?" he asked, rubbing it quickly.

"Not that," Dean said darkly, glancing at Ron. "I think he's found your admirer."

"You... have?"

Ron just looked between the two notes and Harry. Dean sighed loudly and peered over his arm. 

"Potions ingredients? Big whoop." He nodded to Seamus. "He's flipped," Dean confirmed.

"Yup," Seamus replied, shaking his head.  "Nothing we could do."

"Harry," Ron breathed. "I think it's from Malfoy."

"Real: "...He's definitely flipped," Seamus confirmed, striding forward and plucking the potions ingredients note out or Ron's hand and throwing it over his shoulder.  "Now Ron, being an investigator may sound fun, but you're not very good, ok?" 

Placing his hands on Ron's shoulders he steered him towardthe door.  "Yes yes, you _think_ you know, but you forgotthe basic rule of all mystery stories: the House Elf always did it."

"Seamus!" Ron snapped angrily, whipping the boy's hands away with a highly ineffective sweep of his arm. "I'm not kidding! Malfoy wrote this down for me in potions last week. Look!" He thrust the two pieces of paper in Seamus' face. 

Dean sidled behind his friend and looked at them closely. "He has a point, actually..."

Seamus blinked and took the notes in one hand, scratching his chin.  "Well..."

Harry coughed loudly and snatched the notes off Seamus.  "Why would Malfoy send me anything?" he askedcalmly, ripping the notes down the centre and letting them fall to the ground.

Ron almost exploded. "WHY DO NONE OF YOU PAY THE SLIGHTEST BIT OF ATTENTION TO ANYTHING I SAY?!" he yelled, storming out and slamming the door so hard that icicles fell from the window ledge outside. 

  
Seamus blinked.  "Woah." He turned to Dean to say something but was cut off by Harry, "drop it, Seamus."

Dean picked up the shredded bits of paper. "You pricks," he spat to Harry and Seamus. "He's bloody right and all." He cast them a reproving glare and followed Ron out.

Harry scowled.  'I know that.  Maybe I just don't want to admit it.'  He glared at the floor and stormed out after Dean and Ron, deciding to go and see Ginny to calm down.

Seamus, left alone in the dormitories spread his arms wide with a highly offended look on his face.  "IT'S BLOODY CHRISTMAS!" he yelled before kicking the floor, stubbing toe.  "Gits."  He hobbled over to his bed and set about getting dressed.

  
Draco thought it was incredible that it should be this cold *inside* the school, as he made his way up the labyrinth of corridors from the dungeons. He snuggled into the protective hood of his new black cloak lined with green silk and decorated with an elaborate silver-embroidered monogram on the chest. He lifted his hand to examine it again, pulling off the glove. On his little finger was a silver Malfoy signet ring that his father had arranged to have sent to him. 

'You are my only son and heir, and this is your right.'

Draco looked at the entwined serpents and smirked. His link to money secured, he pulled his leather gloves back on and walked into the entrance hall. 

Harry sighed, wrapped up in the invisibility cloak, hidden completely from view.  He needed to get away from the Gryffindor tower, from the cheerful happiness, from the tension between Dean, Seamus, Ron and himself, from the homework he had neglected to do.  The invisibility cloak showed the only safe passage out of the tower and he had taken it without hesitation.

He'd been walking aimlessly for a while now, cursing himself for not bringing the Marauders Map with him, to find a nice quiet place where he could think alone by himself.  

It was nearing midnight as he wandered down the staircase to the Entrance Hall, not paying attention to where he was going.  If anyone caught him out here he would most certainly be getting in trouble, Christmas or no Christmas.

Draco whistled quietly to himself as he crossed the hall at a brisk stride, making for the doors. At this time of night, he wouldn't be caught heading off to Hogsmeade to meet Blaise at the station. He had received an owl just then from Blaise, asking him to come to the station. Draco had already waited long enough, having only opened the presents from his father and left the rest until he and Blaise could open them together. He gave a load gasp as he crashed into an apparently solid patch of air.

'Dammit' Harry's unfocused eyes slipped back into focus, he reached a hand up to straighten the glasses that were not there.  For once, Harry had managed to do something without the Wizarding World knowing, he had gotten contacts.  Tonight was a test run.  He stopped, and blinked, looking through the invisibility cloak to see who had walked into him.

"Malfoy?" he hissed angrily, then cursed himself.  'Way to give yourself away, Boy Wonder'.

Draco jumped, casting about him with narrowed eyes. 

"Potter?" he demanded furiously. "I _knew you had a cloak. Where are you?" He did not wish to demean himself by flailing his arms, but it was so tempting._

"You knew did you?" Harry asked with a sigh, folding his arms across his chest.  He could keep this up all night, hiding while Malfoy looked like he was talking-to thin air.

Draco, aware that he was being humiliated, closed his eyes. If he could follow Potter's voice long enough, he'd be able to whip that cloak right off him. To hide this gesture, he tipped his head back. 

"Since I saw your head in Hogsmeade," he said. "It was kind of obvious."

"So I have a cloak," Harry replied, taking six steps backwards and two across.  "It's nothing big." A pause.  "Why are you out here?" he asked curiously.

Draco beamed on sudden inspiration. He whipped out his wand and muttered, "Accio Potter's Invisibility Cloak." The silvery fabric slithered away, revealing Harry, and settled across Draco's hands. 

"I'm meeting Blaise at the station," he answered with a smirk.

Harry paused as the sudden jet of cold air hit him, his invisibility cloak flying away.  He reached out to grab it but was no match for the spell, fingertips just brushing the end,

Harry closed his eyes.  "Fine.  We talk like this then." He walked over to Draco and stood a metre away, dressed in a baggy red jumper and black pants, a robe hurriedly pulled over him and no sign of the tell-tale glasses.

"Couldn't face Christmas alone?" he asked Draco, raising an eyebrow.

Draco couldn't answer for a while. He stared at Harry's bottle green eyes, magnified by the contacts but without the thick lenses of his glasses. The boy had been standing way away from where Draco had expected, but now he was a lot closer than Draco would have stood to him, had it been the other way around. 

"Huh? No, Blaise had to come back because... Well, Blaise had to come back."

"I'm sure."  Harry reached a hand out for his invisibility cloak.  "I need to get back."

"I'm sure you do," Draco smirked, moving the cloak out of reach. "*I*, however, need to get all the way to Hogsmeade. I think I might borrow this." 

"You won't be using my cloak.  It's my fathers and Dumbledore knows it's mine.  Give it back, Malfoy," he said tiredly.

"No," Draco said with a smile. He swung the cloak around himself and moved on silent, Italian soles toward the side-passage, gripping the cloak tightly to stop Potter from using his own trick. The scent of the Gryffindor enveloped him and he found it hard to breathe. 

"It's mine," Harry replied, sounding for all the world like a child who didn't have his toy and not a 16year old boy who was tired and wanted to sleep.

He stepped toward Draco, reaching out a hand to curl around the soft fabric.  "Give it back."

  
Draco was moving the cloak away when he heard a mewing and distant voices. He swore softly and whipped the cloak up, hooking Potter in with his left hand and dropping the cloak over them both, moving into the shadows. They were both too tall and too well-honed from Quidditch to stand at a comfortable distance without showing their feet, so they both - on instinct - moved in to stand so close that Draco could smell the grassy scent of Potter's hair and clothes and feel his heartbeat through his shirt.

Harry dropped his head onto Draco's shoulder, cursing inwardly even more that he had not brought the Marauders Map with him.  He could probably have prevented this, but, as he closed his eyes, listening as intently as Filch walked closer to them he became more aware that he was practically hugging the Slytherin Prince.  If Harry were to think about this meeting later, he would blush at the mere thought.

"Did you hear that, pet?" Filch enquired, presumably of his cat. "Naughty students out late for kissies without ol' Filchy noticing. Think they can slip past me, do they?"

Draco's heart skipped a beat at the notion of being out at night with Potter for that purpose. The pressure of the boy's head on his shoulder made him want to squirm away, but he stuck fast, holding onto the fabric of his cloak with both hands. 

Harry tried to steady his breathing as Mrs. Norris ambled over to them, sniffing the floor.  He looped an arm around Draco's waist and pulled him backwards slightly as Mrs. Norris' tail suddenly whipped out as she turned and bounced back to Filch.

Draco nearly had a heart attack - never mind skipping beats - as Potter's arm lingered around his waist. The Gryffindor's raven-black hair stroked Draco's neck and he resisted the urge to rest his cheek against it. 

"Do we move now?" he breathed. 

Harry shook his head.  "Flich," he whispered quietly, breath hitting Draco's neck.  

Goosepimples rippled down Draco's side. "Forgive me if I haven't done this before," he retorted in a sharp whisper.

Harry laughed slightly as he tried to fight the blush threatening to appear.

"Shh!" Draco admonished him, turning his head sharply. He froze as his nose was pressing against Harry's. He stared at him, lips parted.

Harry blinked slowly, watching Draco with a kind of amused curiosity.  "Filch is gone," he said quietly, not wanting to break the moment they were in.

Draco shook his head ever so slightly, gazing at Harry through half-lidded eyes. "He's here until I'm done," he breathed.

"Oh." Harry continued to watch Draco, his free hand playing with the fabric of the invisibility cloak.

Draco's vision wavered. He realised that he had been gripping Harry's shirt in his left hand and not his cloak. He dropped it as though burned. 

"Potter," he whispered.

"Malfoy," Harry replied the formality.  "Tell me, did you mean what you said in Hogsmeade?"

"That beautiful things wither and die? Yes," Draco said honestly. "You'll learn that soon, if you haven't already." He shifted nervously, moving his head back slightly so that they were not quite touching. "The blood on the rose... you touched it, right?"

Harry's gaze dropped.  "Yes.  Are you going to tell me that I'll wither and die soon because of that too?" He held onto the cloak firmly and pulled it off swiftly, wrapping it around his arm.

"No," Draco said with a sigh. "It means that our hatred has been screwed with." His eyes raked Harry's face. "And despite that you're the most beautiful thing here; it is not necessarily you that will die. Either we make up, or one or both of us dies."

Harry looked away, arm still comfortably resting around Draco's waist.  "I can't live while Voldermort does.  Either he dies or I die," he said bitterly.

"Well then we're best off if you just die now," Draco smiled. This was not news to him. "Po...  Harry?"

"It's death, Malfoy," Harry said quietly.  "I don't want to die."

"Nor do I, particularly," Draco said, leaning back against the wall, but arching his back so as not to crush Potter's arm. "But with these old texts, 'death' is a very loose translation..." He stopped. "Want to be friends instead?"

Draco wondered if Harry knew what it had cost him to say that; wondered if Harry could tell how fast his heart was beating just then.

"You offered me your friendship 5 years ago," Harry replied as he turned back to Draco and leaned his forehead on the small boy's distractedly.  The combined butterbeer and lack of sleep from today were getting to him.

"What makes you think I've changed my answer?"

"Because this time it's life or death," Draco breathed. "Because this time, I really mean it." Because this time I'm in love with you. But he couldn't say that aloud

"I don't know."  And he didn't.  Harry stepped back from Draco and took his invisibility cloak from his arm.  He paused, unsure of what to do then lifted the hand with the watch.  "Thanks," he said slowly before leaning forward and pressing his lips to Draco's forehead.  "Merry Christmas."

With that, the invisibility cloak was over his head and he was gone, back to the Gryffindor Tower.


	5. Dreaming of Death

Play the Game

By Micro-chick and Morgana Malfoy

A/N: Mwah! We get our first proper taste of Darkness and Angst this chapter when Harry's scar finally makes itself known again after a period of nothing-ness.  Draco goes through revelations as to what he _really_ thinks about Harry.  Blaise and Draco finally share their Christmas presents and Draco speaks his mind

_Since when was love a game? Draco Malfoy does not play games.  Chess, cards, and quidditch are games.  Love doesn't have rules… right? Therefore it's not a game.  But why are both the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike no longer playing by the rules?_

Chapter Five

Someone coughed, an arm slipped, and pain shot through an elbow.  Blaise Zabini blinked as he was woken up rudely by the train coming to a halt at the Hogsmeade Station.  He glanced out of the window.  Having neglected to close the blinds before falling asleep, it gave him a scenic view of the small town of Hogsmeade by night, blanketed in a thick layer of snow.

He got up from his seat slowly and reached up to take his suitcase from the overhead hanger.  It took a while, but after three strong tugs it was down and ready to be dragged back up the long winding path to Hogwarts.

There was hardly any sound on the train as he moved slowly down the corridor, past seven compartments, five of which had sleeping people inside which would be woken up when their stop arrived.  Assuming they hadn't already missed it.

Blaise placed a hand on the door and pushed, bracing himself against the vicious onslaught of bitingly cold wind.  The minute both his feet and his suitcase were on the platform, a whistle sounded and the train left for its next destination, leaving Blaise Zabini to wait alone.

Still shivering with suppressed adrenaline, Draco stumbled his way through the unmarred snow on the path to the station. Potter's lips had left a burning patch on his forehead, and he kept raising his hand to check that it wasn't bleeding or anything. 

'What have I done?'

He pushed a snow-laden branch of holly aside, and further up the tree a branch unloaded its covering on his head. Draco grunted angrily, brushing his head with a gloved hand. "I hate snow," he snapped, his breath curling up in icy vapour, parting as he stormed through it. 

The tall wrought iron gates creaked mournfully as he pushed through them, taking a moment to look up at the diamond-bright stars against the velvet of the night sky. It struck Draco that it made a beautiful cloak, and he wondered if he should get one for his mother's January birthday. 

Kicking his feet through the snow, Draco pondered the matter of Harry, though only lightly. Too much thought would stain the surreal covering it all held like a shield above its fragile form. Once it started getting realistic and not just a late Christmas - possibly drunken - fantasy, things would start going very efficiently wrong.

Draco stepped onto the platform of Hogsmeade station, which looked as though it had been sifted lightly with icing sugar. The snow crunched under his booted feet as he walked up to the tracks, looking about for Blaise. He soon spied him, curled up into a ball on a bench and apparently fast asleep. Draco smiled fondly and walked over to him.

"Anyone would think you were a tramp," he said loudly, standing over him.

"A tramp in expensive clothing," Blaise replied, still curled up in a ball against the cold.  He opened one eye and looked up at Draco, "Hallo."

"Happy Christmas," Draco greeted flatly. "A tramp who stole some posh clothing and happens to wear it with pinache." He held out his hand to Blaise and pulled him to his feet. 

Blaise stumbled slightly, and flashed a brief smile to Draco.  "Happy Christmas to you too," he replied, holding out a small emerald green package, the same colour as Potter's eyes.

Draco noticed this immediately, those eyes without glasses fixed in his head like headlamps, the light of which lingered inside his eyelids. He gripped the package in his gloved hands. 

"Should I open it when we get back, or now?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Your choice." Blaise shrugged, grabbing hold of his suitcase with frozen fingers.

Draco picked up another of Blaise's bags, slipping the package into his pocket. "My fingers are too numb just now," he said with a smile. The volcano boiling inside him, held back by the question 'should I tell him?' overflowed. 

"I've got something to tell you about, Blaise," Draco said, taking a deep breath.

Blaise nodded, looking at Draco out of curious eyes.  "Go on."

Draco proceeded to tell him what had happened on his way to the station, about meeting Potter and - surprisingly, considering his gender - exactly how it made him feel and confessed his worries about all of it. When he was finished, he opened and closed his mouth for a moment, watching the little puffs of steam with a frown. 

"I think that's pretty much it," he said, embarrassed, and ducked his head.

Blaise reached forward and brushed some of Draco's fine hair off his forehead, to look at the place Potter had kissed him with a slight frown.  He dropped his gaze to Draco, unreadable.  "Did you regret any of it?"

"I regret..." He hesitated. What did he regret? "I regret that I didn't make more of it."

Blaise smiled and brushed Draco's hair back into place before looking at the road back to the school.  "I'm tired, and I need sleep.  We'll talk tomorrow and I can freak out better."

"So you're going to stop here and wake up tomorrow to walk back to the castle?" Draco asked, one corner of his mouth lifting. "Seems a little silly. Maybe I should have left you here."

"You could always carry me," Blaise suggested.

"I'm not carrying you, you lump," Draco sneered, then returned to his thoughtful melancholy.

"Cheer _up you miserable git," Blaise responded.  "It's Christmas and Potter just kissed you."_

"He didn't," Draco said mournfully.

"So someone else, who looked liked Potter, who you believed was Potter, kissed you instead?"

Draco shot a glare at Blaise.

"One day, someone will beat you up for piss-taking, and you'll deserve it. I'll be on the sidelines clapping and cheering for whoever finally dares."

"And some day I'll punch you in the face so you can see that maybe Potter likes you," Blaise retorted sourly as he brushed past Draco and began to walk alone.

Draco came to a halt, frowning slightly. He watched Blaise walk away, then ran after him as he rounded a bend in the path. Draco held his arms out and looked frankly at Blaise.

"Hit me," he told him.

"No."

"You crazy bastard, hit me!" Draco stormed, clenching his fists.

"No."

"Oh for GOD'S SAKE!" Draco shouted, casting about him for some kind of release. Fury and adrenaline built up in him and he balled a fist, smacking Blaise in the cheekbone, quite hard.

"You don't want to hit me." Blaise rubbed his rapidly reddening cheek angrily with a balled fist.  "You want to hit Potter because you know he's doing this to you," he said slowly, standing right up against Draco and poking him hard in the chest with each word, "and you don't like it."

"Potter doesn't give a shit about me!" Draco shouted. "Potter doesn't mean anything!"

"Potter means a lot.  Admit it, Draco." Blaise scowled, clenching his jaw line.

"Potter means a lot to the world, and the world decided it didn't care for me a while back," Draco said tensely, his whole body rigid as he stared at Blaise through narrowed eyes.

"And you mean a lot to Potter."

"NO I DON'T!" Draco roared.

Blaise curled his hand into a fist and pulled it back before putting every ounce of energy he possessed into hitting Draco square in the jaw.  The action sent the slightly smaller Slytherin sprawling backwards against the wind and onto the snow.

"I told you."

Draco's lip peeled back from his teeth and he let out a snarl, leaping to his feet and spinning a fist into Blaise's chin. As the black-haired boy reeled, Draco spat out a tooth into the snow and watched it melt its bloody way down before returning his death glare to Blaise.

"Just drop it and start acting like a Slytherin and not a romantic!" he said in a terrible whisper. "Potter does not even tolerate me, let alone like me. And even if he did, I wouldn't do a thing about it because I'm not like that."

Blaise pushed himself up on his arms, lay on his back in the snow.  His bottom lip was busted, bleeding onto his chin whilst his cheekbone turned purple.

"Who defined Slytherins? Who said we have to be who we are? Who said that we can't believe, we can't hope and we can't dream?" he snapped, shaking snow from his hair.  "Don't you get it Draco? We're Voldemort's fucking pawns.  We're brainwashed, and when the final battle comes it will be us who will die and not be remembered."

"Do I want to be remembered?" Draco demanded. "Does it really matter that I ever clung to this miserable existence? Voldemort can push me around all I want, because at least then I won't have to decide for myself. I won't have to feel like this and I can just let it all go. I can get away from everything and just do whatever he says. I don't have to be a rich man's son. I don't have to be an aristocrat. I don't have to be presentable. I don't have to be witty, or smart, or sharp. I don't have to be beautiful. I can just be me and I can die being me. If that doesn't happen, I'll live until I'm ninety and hate every second of it, alone."

Blaise reached a hand up to Draco.  "Help me up."

Draco reached out absently to pull Blaise to his feet. 

"I'm sorry I hit you," he mumbled. His lip was getting thick and the coppery tang of blood traced across his tongue. Though Draco couldn't see it, where Blaise's fist had hit his face, the pressure had torn his skin into a shattered spider-web of bloody lines waiting to well up. A rich violet bruise was pushing to the surface beneath the cracked skin. The cold air began to sting at it viciously, like miniatures vipers.

"But Blaise, it doesn't matter what I feel or want," he explained. "If I feel nothing and want for nothing, I'll never be hurt."

"But you'll never live," Blaise said quietly, as he placed a hand on Draco's cheek where he had been punched.  "I hit you harder than I thought was possible," he commented dryly.  "But I'm not sorry."

"I know you're not," Draco said blankly. He fingered his own lip and then removed his glove to test Blaise's jaw and chin. "You're OK. No permanent damage done." Draco put a finger into his own mouth to find where the tooth had come from. It was his bottom left canine. Draco scooped a tiny ball of snow and packed it tightly into the gap, wincing at the chill.

Blaise dropped his head onto Draco's shoulder uncomfortably.  "We need to get back or I swear, I'll sleep here."

"Yeh," Draco mumbled, pushing Blaise's head upright and starting to walk, still holding his finger in his mouth.   A little unsteadily, hands wrapped around his trunk, Blaise followed Draco up to the castle.

***

Harry was shaking slightly from the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he began to walk back to the Gryffindor Tower under cover of the invisibility cloak.  'I just kissed Draco Malfoy... granted, it was on the forehead, but still... oh my god... I kissed him...'

"Distracted, Harry?" a gentle voice inquired. Dumbledore stepped down, lifting the invisibility cloak's hem to peer underneath it through his half-moon spectacles. "I saw your foot."

Harry jumped, and then peered under the invisibility cloak at him, looking a little frightened.  "Professor, sir," he said hurriedly, "I didn't mean to be out - well, I did, but that's not the point! I was only coming out for a second! Please don't take points from Gryffindor!"

"That's quite alright," Dumbledore smiled. "But are you?"

Harry flushed, though it was not very visible in the darkness.  He sighed and walked forward, turning around and sitting on the bottom step of the staircase to the Gryffindor Tower.  He tucked his hands under his arms and looked at the ground.  "Not really,"

Dumbledore folded like a strip of cardboard to sit beside him. 

"Can you tell me what's wrong?" he asked, crows' feet crinkling beside his eyes.

"Not really," Harry replied as the last of the adrenaline rush drained out of him.

"Ah," Dumbledore nodded, straightening his crumpled purple wizards' hat. 

"You see everything, don't you?" Harry asked curiously, looking up at the wise man.  "Does Ron hate me at the moment? I don't want him to hate me."

"Mr. Weasley is annoyed that you won't listen to him," the headmaster answered solemnly. "And you should."

"I didn't need to listen to him.  I know Mal..." Harry trailed off and scrubbed at his eyes - effectively taking out the contacts.  He put them in his pocket and took out his old glasses, slipping them up his nose.  "Should I apologise?"

"The watch?" Dumbledore asked sagely, lifting Harry's wrist to examine it. "It's very nice. A worthy present. I think Mr. Weasley is not the only person who deserves an apology and a friendly ear, though Ron definitely does need one just now. He's up there, by the way."

Dumbledore pointed to the gallery above them.

Harry smiled, nothing ever got by Dumbledore.  He stood up, and picked up the invisibility cloak off the floor.  "Professor Dumbledore, sir, you won't take points right?"

"Of course not, or I should take points from the teaching faculty for drifting about at this time as well," Dumbledore said with a smile, remaining seated on the stair as Harry swirled out of sight and made his way up the stairs.

Harry - now feeling a lot better - reached the top of the stairs and opened the door to the gallery to see Ron and apologise formally, for not listening to his best friend when he should have.

'Mr. Malfoy and Harry, friends? They'd be a force to be reckoned with,' Dumbledore mused silently, gazing at the stars through the stained glass window over the enormous double doors, lost in thought

***

Blaise sat down on his bed to pull on his bright white socks, a present from his cousin who attended Durmstrang and barely got in touch.  Blaise had been surprised when he arrived home for Christmas to realise that every single member of his family had sent him a present because usually he just got them off the Slytherins and his mother and father.  Maybe, just maybe, he had thought that he would finally have a proper Christmas and his parents would start giving him more attention than they gave to Voldemort, and the current goings on.  

It wasn't to last.

Five hours into being home, when he had finished opening the presents from his family, Voldemort had gotten in touch.  It seems that Christmas was wasted on the wizard, he didn't care, and the moment he voiced that he wanted Blaise's father and mother there with him, the small spark of hope in Blaise was put out immediately.  His parents had wasted no time in getting their stuff together and packing him away on a train back to Hogwarts while they celebrated Christmas in a wholly different way.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Blaise realised that he still hadn't given Draco his Christmas present.  True, he had given it to him at the station, but Draco had handed it back to him to carry, and both boys had forgotten about it as they fell asleep for the night.

Spotting the emerald green wrapping paper glinting in the light off the fire Blaise stood up and walked over to the chair.  He picked the present up and walked over to Draco, who was still sleeping.  With a smile tugging at his lips he dropped it onto Draco's stomach.  "Wake up you lazy bugger and open your present."

"Piss off," Draco snapped automatically. He rolled onto his side and yelped in pain. He lifted his head and blinked blearily, tossing his hair back and looking at the cobweb of blood on his pillow.

"Shit Draco," Blaise said in a quiet voice, staring at the weird bruise on his face, the exact place he had hit Draco last night.

Draco sat up, touching his skin with trembling fingertips. "I've had worse," he said thickly. 

"You need to get Madame Pomfrey to look at that," Blaise replied evenly.  "It looks nasty."

"If she stocks teeth, I could do with one of those, too," Draco said with a grin. The gap in his lower jaw was clearly evident.

"You should get a gold one." Blaise nodded.

"Gold is lower-orders," Draco said flatly. "I'll just live without rather than have one of those. Hey, d'you want your present before we go to the hospital wing?"

"Sure," Blaise grinned.  "Yours is..." he blinked, "underneath you now somewhere."

"It's lucky," Draco murmured, arching his back. He retrieved a package and his expression tightened as he saw the colour and remember Potter again, but he ignored it. 

"Yours is on the mantelpiece," he said with an imperial wave of his hand and indicated a silver wrapped parcel.

Blaise straightened up from his bent over position, looking at Draco's bruise and walked over to the mantel piece.  Draco usually gave the best presents in the House, and this year was probably no different.

Draco plucked at the ribbon around his package absently with a fingernail, watching Blaise.

"Did we really fight over Potter last night?" he asked eventually.

Blaise blinked, picking up the present as he did so.  A dark look came over his face.  "Yeah, actually.  Never thought of it that way."

Draco put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes, breathing deeply across his swollen lip, air hissing through the gap in his teeth. 

"Ow," he murmured. "Listen, I don't want to hear about it, alright? You think I'm a complete poof now, right? That's fine. I don't really care. Just please - don't talk about it to everyone in the school."

Blaise turned his head slightly to the side, registering what Draco was saying to him.  He moved the present to another hand and strode over to Draco, before sitting down crossed-legged on the other boys bed.  "I do not think like that," he pointed out.  "And I will not tell anyone if that's what you want."

"You don't?" Draco asked, tilting his head on one side and sitting up to look at Blaise. "Thanks."

He looked pointedly at the gift Blaise held. "Are you going to open that?"

"Me first then?" he asked.  Without waiting for an answer he ripped off the silver wrapping paper to reveal a large sheet of black velvet.  Blaise unfolded his legs and stepped off the bed, letting the material fall down as he held his hands above his head.

Circles of different coloured gemstones made a pattern up and down, with gold symbols.  Blaise smirked, a magical Twister mat.

"I thought you'd like it," Draco beamed. "It curses your opponents." He took a pencil from his bedside cabinet and tapped a gold symbol. It flashed and boils sprouted on the pencil, which Draco dropped sharply.

Blaise laughed and folded the mat back up, placing it on the chair behind him.  He sat back down on the bed and looked at the present Draco was holding.  "Thanks, and open yours.  I'm getting impatient."

Draco nodded, wincing as the blood moved in his swollen cheek. He ripped the paper off with slightly bloody fingernails and pulled out a box, opening it carefully. Inside was a perfectly round glass ball, about as big as a Bludger. It was completely clear, but for a rainbow swirling across the surface, like on a child's soap bubble. Draco stroked a hand across its surface and staggering bolts of colour shot through it, bouncing about the inside. He jerked his hand away and the colours subsided. 

"What is it?" he asked Blaise, lifting the box.

"A Traumosphere.  You fill it with one dream, the one thing you want.  But the Traumosphere isn't stupid, it knows when you are lying and it knows when a dream is going to end.  The colours inside the sphere will reflect your mood pertaining to the dream until finally the dream is achieved, or it must come to an end." Blaise looked at the Traumosphere carefully; he had gone through a lot to get it.  "It also takes half the burden off you for the dream you put into it.  Choose wisely."

"Just the one dream?" Draco asked, lifting his eyebrows to look at Blaise without raising his head. The rainbow colours of the sphere swirled across his face.

Blaise shrugged, "I don't know for I've never had one nor seen one before: they're extremely rare.  Presumably, the dream you put into it will also be the dream that began all your other dreams, but they pale in comparison."

"Thanks," Draco breathed. He put his hand over it and closed his eyes. The staggering rainbow bolts swirled up to his hand again until luminous lights flashed over his face and a gently pressed breeze started, lifting Draco's hair from his face and stirring the pages of an open book nearby. He snapped his hand away and the bolts settled like dry ice into the bottom, building until they filled the whole ball. After a moment or two, a crimson the colour of blood and roses filtered through like cordial added to water. 

"What does that mean?" Draco asked blankly, looking at it.

Blaise reached over and pulled out the card from the box where instructions were written.  "It doesn't say, the colours change depending on the person so there isn't really a code." He scratched his chin with his free hand before continuing, "Probably, that's how you feel about your dream at the moment."

"Red," Draco said flatly.

"Or," he added as an afterthought.  "It could mean you need to see Madame Pomfrey real soon."

"You're determined to get me up there aren't you? You realise you'll get in so much trouble for knocking my tooth out," Draco said solemnly, snapping the lid shut.

"And you'll get in trouble for busting my lip," Blaise replied.  He had, so far, been ignoring the throbbing in his bottom lip that was at least twice its normal size.  "And, you still need to get dressed."

"Piss off," Draco drawled. "I want to play Twister."

Blaise laughed, climbed off the bed and unfolded the mat in one smooth motion.  With a flick of his wrist the mat was lay across the floor.  "Game on?"

"I'll beat you. I know how this thing works." 

Draco clambered out of bed, straightened his black silk pyjamas and muttered a spell over the mat. He retrieved a spinner from the box and set it going. 

"Right foot amethyst," he read, sticking his foot into a circle.

"Yeah, but the mat is mine, so it likes me better." Blaise moved his foot and flicked the spinner.  "Right arm Sapphire."

Draco leaned over and planted his hand in the circle. 

"You know, if you stay too long on a circle you start to sink?" he added conversationally.

"Sounds fun," Blaise said dryly as he slid his hand next to Draco's right foot.  

"I lost my uncle Rudolf that way," Draco mused. 

Blaise decided that keeping any part of his body on one of these Gemstones for too long was definitely a no-go.  "We should get Crabbe and Goyle to play," he suggested.  "Right hand Ruby."

Draco gave a heave and jumped his hand over to the ruby circles, bending to avoid knocking Blaise down. 

"They don't know their colours, let alone gemstones."

Blaise nodded distractedly.  "That, or I'm colour blind."

"Me too," Draco agreed mildly. "And everyone else but them."

"That has to be it," Blaise replied, placing his hand on a circle.  He flicked the spinner with a toe on his free foot, but was unable to see what it said.  He poked the back of Draco's knee with his elbow.  "What does it say?"

"Oh hell!" Draco exclaimed, crumpling. His elbow banged against a gold sign and warmth flooded up his arm. 

"Your arse looks enormous in those trousers," he said conversationally, then clapped a hand over his mouth. He hopped upright and stepped off the mat. "What did I just say?"

Blaise flushed and managed to climb off the mat without getting a curse put on himself.  "You, eh..." he trailed off and frowned slightly, before realisation dawned on his face.  "Probitas Hex."

"You think you're SOOO smart," Draco sneered. "Oh I'm sorry."

Blaise blinked then started laughing.  "You," he started breathlessly, between laughter, "you better ho - hope you don't see Sn - Snape."

"I'd better hope I don't see Potter," Draco said vehemently. "What do I do?"

"I don't know the counter-curse.  It's hard or something.  We should go see Madame Pomfrey – which reminds me." He looked over, now sober, and studied the bruise on Draco's face.  "It's getting worse."

"Well, at least I'm better than you are," Draco said happily. He bit his lip. "I hate myself like this. I'm sorry."

Blaise shrugged, "It's interesting.  Though I meant what I said."

"I know. How about I don't open my mouth until we get to the hospital wing?" Draco suggested.

"Deal." Blaise walked over and pushed Draco in the direction of the bathrooms so he could go change before they went.  He crouched down and began to fold up the mat once the other boy had gone and placed it in his trunk neatly between his emerald green cloak and copy of Magical theory by Adalbert Waffling.

Draco emerged, muttering snidely, once he had washed and dressed. 

"Let's go, Cuddle-bums," he said flatly, tipping his head forward.

Blaise shot around and looked Draco up and down out of narrowed eyes.  "I thought you were going to keep your mouth shut...?"

"Don't squint at me, Tiddles," Draco said lightly, patting Blaise's cheek. "Can we just get out there quick before anyone else comes and gets in my way?"

Blaise nodded mutely and held the door open for Draco, so the other boy could walk out first.  They walked in relatively quiet silence, with Draco not wanting to say anything for fear of speaking his mind, and Blaise knowing that Draco wouldn't reply anyway.

  
As they rounded the corner and came out into the brightly lit entrance hall, Blaise realised something.  "Dammit," he hissed, "I've left the door unlocked.  Wait right here Draco, I'll be back in a second." And just like that, he took off at a run back the way they had came.

Draco's mouth dropped open in despair. What was he going to do NOW?

Harry swore mentally as he ran down the stairs from the Gryffindor Tower at full speed.  His contacts weren't in his pocket where he had left them last night, and he remembered seeing something glint on the steps where he had sat with Dumbledore as he went to find Ron. 'Please be there, please be there,' he prayed as he reached the final set of stairs and jumped down them, two at a time.  He skidded to a halt at the bottom and began searching the step frantically.

"Oh LOOK, it's The Boy Who Kissed," Draco said loudly and scornfully, tossing his head. "Is he as blind as a dingbat without his Potter-Wee glasses?"

Harry froze, hand halfway across the step.  He straightened up but refused to turn around, knowing that his eyes would betray him if he did.  "What do you want, Malfoy?" he asked harshly, hurt by the words.

"I wouldn't mind another kiss, but make sure you do it properly this time," Draco said flatly. He put a proverbial gun to his proverbial temples. 'You stupid IDIOT,' he snapped to himself.

"I - You - What?!" Harry demanded, thoroughly confused.  He turned around and stared at the blond Malfoy in front of him with a completely floored expression.

Draco rolled his eyes back into his head, tilting it back and shutting his eyes. 

"No one kisses a guy on the head. You have to do the thing properly," he explained with amazement at his own words. "What am I SAYING?" he demanded aloud.

"I think you need serious help, Malfoy," Harry said tensely.  He whirled back around, not caring for the contacts anymore.  They could go to hell for all he cared, Draco's words had hurt.

"Please don't go," Draco said pleadingly. He looked such a state standing in the middle of the hall, small without his cronies, bruises adorning his face and hair hanging across shadowed eyes.

Letting the Gryffindor get the better of him Harry shook his head.  "I can't trust you Malfoy.  Last night, you were... different.  More human than I've ever seen you before and, it was a strange experience, but I didn't not like it.  Then you turn up today covered in bruises and blood, and practically mocking me.  I'm sorry Malfoy, but I can't stay."  He turned away and began to climb the stairs, not noticing when he crushed one of the contact lenses under the heel of his shoe.

"There's a hex," Draco said desperately. "I was playing cursed Twister... Probitas Hex. Potter. POTTER!" 

Draco ran after him, crushing the other contact. He grabbed Harry's arm and turned him around. 

"Stop walking away from me," he pleaded.

Harry turned around but did not pull himself out of the contact with Draco's hand.  "Give me one good reason to."

"Because I like you," Draco blurted out. He gritted his teeth together and screwed his eyes shut.

Harry was shocked into speechlessness.  "I - eh - you what?" he asked, blinking as the Slytherin boy who was holding his arm closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.  'Don't be an idiot Potter, he means as a friend.'

"I --" his sentence was cut short as he noticed Blaise Zabini walk around the corner from what, Harry guessed, was the Slytherin Dungeons.  He slowly pulled out of Draco's grip, suddenly frightened by what this other Slytherin's reaction might be.

"Oh piss off Blaise," Draco snapped under his breath, looking down. His fingers tightened around Harry's arm. 

"I'm sorry for everything that went wrong, and I..."

Harry took a step back, still looking like a deer caught in some headlights. What should he do? Half of him wanted to sod Gryffindor pride, and capture Draco's lips and another part - the more rational one - wanted him to turn and run away.

"Mr. Malfoy, kindly let go of Mr. Potter,_ now_."  The harsh voice cut through the Entrance Hall sharply, and Harry could see the glare plastered on Professor McGonagall's face in his minds eye.  This was not good.

Draco dropped Potter's arm as though it had burnt him. 

"Push off, you Scottish hag," he murmured, gazing at Harry briefly before snapping his fingers and marching off up the stairs, ignoring Professor McGonagall totally.

Blaise mouthed wordlessly, trying to comprehend everything that he had just seen.  Finally, breaking into a run, he shot past Potter and grabbed Draco by the shoulders turning him around.

"Mr. Malfoy!" shrieked Professor McGonagall as she descended the stairs, scowl in place and a tight bun on the back of her head.  "5 points off Slytherin for your insolence and you will report to my office every Wednesday from now on to serve detention until I decide that you have learnt your lesson."

"Oh, will I?" Draco smirked, casting a derogatory glance over his shoulder at McGonagall. "I'd like to see you try to make me, Wrinkles."

"Draco!" hissed Blaise, slamming a fist over his friends mouth and turning to the Professor who was reddening and mouthing wordlessly.  "I'm sorry Professor, really.  It's the Probitas Hex, I need to get him to the Hospital Wing."

"Oh that's bollocks and you know it. You know, I nearly told four-eyes that I'm in love with him!" Draco beamed, clapping Blaise on the back as he pulled the restraining hand from his mouth.

"Mr. Malfoy!" This was too much for McGonagall.  She strode over to the Malfoy boy, grabbed him by the ear and proceeded to drag him in the direction of the Hospital Wing.  "You may come with me, Mr. Zabini.  Mr. Potter, I suggest you go back to the Gryffindor Tower and catch up on some shut eye, you look exhausted."

"Stop dragging me you prune!" Draco hissed, slapping McGonagall's hand away. "I can make my own way there, sans the Zimmer frame."

As they disappeared around the corner - Blaise rapidly apologising, Draco insulting, and McGonagall fuming - Harry finally came to terms with everything that had been said.  He slumped against the wall next to the stairs with a defeated sigh.

'I know I'm probably reading between the lines here, but do you love me, Draco Malfoy? Or, at least, as much as I love you?' He closed his eyes and let his chin drop onto his chest with a weary sigh.

"What do you think I'm saying? I didn't actually _tell_ him that I love him!" Draco could be heard to explain exasperatedly. "That would just be stupid..."

***

Madam Pomfrey looked heavily at the two boys. 

"It's your own fault, you know," she said. 

"But that's hardly the spirit!" Draco protested. 

"Can you help him, then?" Blaise asked tiredly as he sat on a visitors chair.

"I certainly can, but I don't think it's worth my while," Madam Pomfrey sighed, standing up and bustling off to another part of the ward.

"What can you possibly mean?" Draco squeaked. "I can't stay like this forever! It'd be worse than being as fat as you!"

"I mean," Madam Pomfrey said ominously, "that you deserve some humiliation to make up for all the things you've done to people."

"But this just makes me more insulting," Draco bargained with a smirk. 

"Shame," Madam Pomfrey said lightly.

Blaise grinned and placed his elbows on his knees, resting his chin on his palms.  "How long will it take to wear off then?"

"About a month," the medi-witch called. 

"A month?!" Blaise exclaimed.  "That's torture."

"A MONTH!" Draco yelped. "How useless are you? Can't you see through your piggy little eyes that this won't help anyone at ALL?"

"Can't you just make him face it for a day?" Blaise pleaded.

"I could," Madam Pomfrey said. "But what good would it do me?"

"You're useless!" Draco snapped. He stood up and marched to the door. "I'll go and find the counter-curse for myself."

"I wouldn't doubt him," Blaise said quietly to Madame Pomfrey.

"I don't," Poppy admitted. "Mr Malfoy, come back here please."

Draco stopped. "Mr Malfoy is my father. My father is in jail. Would you refrain from referring to me as Mr Malfoy? I'll be going now."

"No, Draco, you will not." 

Poppy Pomfrey crossed the ward briskly and put a hand on his shoulder. 

"If you will stay here for a while and control your urges to be nasty to people, I'll reverse the spell," she bargained. 

"That's stupid. I can't change how I think," Draco scoffed. 

"Maybe you can change how you believe you think," Madam Pomfrey said mysteriously. 

Blaise felt a strange admiration he had never felt before for the old nurse as she talked to Draco.  "You might as well try it Draco, you have nothing to lose."

"I have everything to lose!" Draco protested, but it was weak. He bit his lip. "Alright, old witch, if you heal up my bruises and get me a new tooth, I'll stay here and learn to live with this bloody hex."

"It's a deal. Would you like a gold tooth?" Poppy asked with a wry smile.

***

_It was cold; dark; lonely.  Harry Potter wandered along aimlessly, unable to see something until it was right in front of his face, or under his feet sending him sprawling onto the ground.  The first time he had landed, he hadn't been able to stop himself, his body felt different somehow, stronger, older.  His hands were covered in scratches and bruises, the nails broken and covered in muck._

_Suddenly, there was a flash of green light and he winced, turning his head away from its source.  When he opened his eyes again, he realised he was in a chamber, it was circular and a strange pattern was carved into the floor, spanning nearly the whole distant in every direction.  He stepped into the light to get a view of things when he noticed someone else doing the same, but this person was not scared and uncertain like he was, this person knew where he was and was very confident of himself._

_Harry's scar which had been throbbing constantly since he arrived burst open, filling him with pain and anger.  He collapsed onto the floor as the cloaked person barked out orders._

_He writhed and screamed, his scar was on fire.  Someone was there, pulling him up, and then his wand was thrust into his hand.  Wincing at the pain in his scar, one eye closed Harry faced down Voldemort._

_"So you've finally come for him, Harry Potter," he hissed, dropping his cloak to reveal the snake-like face.  "Too bad you're going to die.  **Crucio."**_

_Harry braced himself against the spell in a split second, feeling like he was dying from the pain in the scar.  He began to scream, a high pitched wailing sound as he thrashed around in his bed._

"HARRY!" Ron bellowed, shaking his friend's shoulders. "HARRY!" 

Ron raised panicked, dilated eyes. Harry's scar had actually burst and blood poured freely from it, spilling over the boy's face.

"Oh Christ, Harry!" 

Ron threw the covers off Harry's writhing body and scooped him up, staggering across the room and down the stairs with his friend in his arms. 

"Please, stop screaming," Ron pleaded. "I just need to get you to the hospital wing..."

The redhead pushed out into the corridor at a staggering run, fingers digging into Harry's arm and leg as he strove to hold onto the struggling boy. It seemed to take an incredibly short time to reach the door of the hospital wing, but it was still too long for Ron. His lungs and arms burned and his legs shook like jelly. 

"You're getting fat," he accused Harry irrationally. "I swear you were never this heavy." He crashed his elbow against the hospital wing door. 

"Madam Pomfrey!" he cried. "Please help me..."

Poppy started from her slumber at a loud banging and sat up in bed, straightening her hairnet before running to open the door. 

"Mr Weasley!" she gasped. "Mr Potter!" The old medi-witch ushered the tall redhead and his burden to a bed and helped to put the still-writhing Harry on top of it. 

"What happened?" she asked. 

"He was screaming and rolling around... I think he was having another dream," Ron confided in a whisper. 

Poppy looked up at him, raising her brows. "Well, I'll get something to calm him down. Thank you for bringing him, but you should go back to bed now." She crossed to a glass cabinet and began rifling through it. 

Ron nodded blankly, smoothing the hair back off Harry's bleeding forehead. "See you tomorrow, mate," he said distantly, walking slowly out. 

At the other end of the room, Draco stirred. "What the hell's that?" he murmured, swinging his legs out of bed and standing up. 

"Draco, would you please go back to bed," Poppy called. She hesitated. "Actually, I think I need to go and see the headmaster. Would you make sure nothing happens to Mr. Potter while I'm gone?" 

Draco's mouth dropped open. "That's not fair! Just because you're going senile, you old bag." He stormed over to Harry's bed in a grand sulk, but froze when he saw the boy. 

"God, you look _awful," he said generously, poking Harry to see if he moved. "Hello-o-o?"_

"Draco, please," Poppy said with a sigh, turning to look at him. "This might be life or death. I need to know if I should let him sleep or wake him up."

She pulled a dusky pink dressing gown around her and swirled out of the room. Still muttering, Draco sat on the end of Harry's bed. He tilted his head to the side and gazed at the Gryffindor. Of their own accord, his fingers reached out to trace the indigo shadows beneath Harry's eyes and smooth the blood from his forehead. 

"Are you alright?" Draco whispered. It hardly seemed important that Harry could not hear him.

Harry's head turned onto its side and his mouth opened slightly.

_"**Finite Incantem**."__ There was a cold chuckle and thin strong fingers wrapped themselves around his arm, dragging him up.  "You wouldn't have come, Harry Potter.  I can see it in your eyes.  You came for him and only him."_

_Harry couldn't move, a limp doll in the hands of a puppeteer.  His eyes were unfocused as he barely registered what Voldemort was saying to him._

_"Emotion has killed you, Harry Potter.  You're not allowed to love or feel, because you will only get killed."  Again the cold chuckle._

_"**Crucio!"**___

Then suddenly there was something there.  Hands were easing the pain on his forehead, wiping away the pressure from his scar.  He reached up a hand, clasping the fingers in his weakly.

Draco jumped as Harry gripped his hand. 

"You awake, Potter? You're bleeding," he told him helpfully. 'Please don't let go of my hand.'

Harry's head fell back to the side and his hand went limp.

_"You're nothing Harry Potter."  The harsh voice was hammering into his already pounding headache, and then suddenly he was thrown to the floor, tossed away._

_"Nothing.__  **Avada** Kedavra**!" There was a shocked yell, something crumbled, everything began to fall and then... black.**_

Draco had turned away and settled to humming 'Too Funky' when Harry started yelling then stopped in a gurgle of pain and surprise. The Malfoy boy turned around sharply, tipping Harry's head sideways and rolling his body over. Trembling fingers snatched Harry's wrist and checked the pulse. It was racing and skipping, jumping about.

"Potter!" Draco cried, vaulting over him and dropping to his knees on the floor, looking into Harry's face. Draco made sure that his mouth was clear and pulled his eyelids back. Potter's eyeballs rolled madly. 

"Harry!" Draco cried, clutching the boy's wrist desperately, the pulse flittering beneath his fingers.

"Don't... stop... Draco... Hermione Ron... Sirius I'm sorry... Dumbledore... I didn't want to... I don't want to go... Don't stop loving me..." he mumbled through thick lips, turning his head from side to side frantically.

"Potter... Harry... You, please stop this," Draco pleaded, brows knitting in a panicked frown. He put his shaking hand to Harry's cheek. "I'm here, it's okay."

There was that cool touch again, the one that helped him, took the pain away.  His eyelids flickered and opened slowly, blurrily.  He couldn't see anything, where were his glasses? He saw the owner of the touch and reached a hand out slowly, his fingertips just brushing the skin before his hand fell limp and eyes slipped closed.  "Don't stop," he whispered quietly, leaning into the touch as he fell asleep.

A shiver ran down Draco's spine, goosebumps rippling over his skin. His eyes narrowed slightly and he settled down with his back against the cabinet, making sure that his palm still rested against Harry's cheek and his fingers still held his wrist.


	6. The Morning After

Play the Game

By Micro-chick and Morgana Malfoy

A/N: Harry wakes up and faces the consequences this dream will bring to him.  Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey try to help him while Snape makes scathing remarks and it seems that no matter what anyone else does, it's down to Harry's choice.  Wonderful.  Draco's healed, Blaise gets an Arithmancy book and Harry and Draco have an …"interesting"… conversation near the Forbidden Forest in the darkness of night.

_Since when was love a game? Draco Malfoy does not play games.  Chess, cards, and quidditch are games.  Love doesn't have rules… right? Therefore it's not a game.  But why are both the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike no longer playing by the rules?_

Chapter Six

It was a foregone conclusion, Draco decided, that his back, neck, arse, ankles, hips, elbows and wrists would never be the same again. He blinked a few times and groaned, sitting forwards. His backside protested, along with just about everything else in his body. A massive wave of pins and needles shot through him and he cried out. His left hand especially felt worse than numb. Draco lifted it from up on the bed where Harry Potter slept...

Harry Potter? 

Draco looked in shock-horror at his hand and the redness on Harry's cheek where his palm had been all night. 

"Yuck!" he exclaimed loudly.

There were voices from near the door and suddenly it opened, emitting three people of various ages and looks.  

Severus Snape was talking to Dumbledore in his usual drawling voice.  "Certainly, Albus... MR MALFOY!"  
  
Draco started violently at the sound of his house master's voice. 

"Sir!" he said, raising his eyebrows in shock. "You're looking particularly greasy today."

"It'd be wise to keep your mouth shut in your predicament, young master Malfoy," Snape replied, pulling his robes across himself imperiously.

"I'd keep your mouth shut too, sir," Draco suggested. "Your breath smells like bat shit."

"Mr. Malfoy, don't doubt that I will take House Points from my own House, curse or no curse.  Now, I believe you need to wake up Potter, Poppy?" he asked, successfully ignoring Draco.

"He woke up just after you left, Madam Pomfrey," Draco told her. "Muttered some things then went back to sleep again." He did not detail the situation.

"Thank you, Draco," Poppy smiled. "If you could remember what he said...?"

"I'll let you know," Draco said distantly. 

Poppy nodded and crossed to Harry's bed with Dumbledore. They murmured for a moment or two and  sparks sifted down over Harry's body.

While this was going on, Snape stared stermly at Draco.  "We will be having a talk about this once you are able to speak normally, so until then, I wish you not to speak till this is over."

"That's a shame. I wish a lot of things that don't come true," Draco beamed.

Draco drifted over to Harry's bed to watch the action, singing 'Too Funky' quietly to himself.

Snape pulled his robes tighter around himself and followed Draco over to the bed where Poppy and Albus were going through the process of waking Harry up from the state he was in.  He frowned, Potter had been coming along well with his Occlumency; this shouldn't have happened.  The only explanation was that Harry wasn't seeing the present or past, as he had been doing for five years, but was now seeing the future.

Warmth, how nice that feeling was.  It reached into him and calmed him down, he could come home now, everything was safe.  Harry opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the harsh light of day as he turned his head to look around and clenched and un-clenched his fists.

"Welcome back, Potty!" Draco exclaimed happily. 

Albus bent over the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Headmaster," Poppy murmured. "I think he needs rest and my attention. Draco can help us to piece together what's happened if you need it."

"What Potter needs is to come to terms with the fact that once again he has members of staff out of their daily routine to see to his every need," Snape said icily as he pushed past Draco and peered down his hooked nose at Harry.  "What did you see, and why did you not use what you have been learning with me?"

"Oh piss off you slimy old ratbag," Draco sneered, shoving Snape's shoulder. "Leave him alone."

Harry relaxed into his bed as Dumbledore spoke to him, then tensed again as Snape loomed over him.  As Draco rushed to his defense he blinked rapidly and rubbed his eyes.  "My glasses," his voice was hoarse. "Where are my glasses?" he asked, ignoring Snape.

Dumbledore cast around him, then shrugged and snapped his fingers, dusting sparks from a pair of spectacles before handing them to Harry. 

Harry smiled briefly and put on the glasses, marveling at how they were better than his own ones.  He pushed himself up on his elbows and set about telling them what he had seen while he had been dreaming, editing out the 'him' Voldemort had spoken of, and what had happened when he had been awake whenever he felt the need.  "I couldn't use Occlumency," he finished, "because Voldemort wasn't showing me what he was doing then, I was seeing what might happen."

"See, you're not always right, Old Slimy," Draco smirked, sticking his tongue out at Snape.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said, nodding. "Mr. Malfoy, if you could fill the gaps?"

"There aren't many," Draco shrugged. "He just said a load of names, and that he was sorry and didn't want someone to stop loving him, then went back to sleep."

"I'm sure you can go into a lot more detail than that, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said as he continued to look down at Harry who was now blushing slightly.

"What names exactly?" he inquired further.

"Don't talk to me like I'm your servant," Draco snapped. "It's Potter's dream and therefore none of your bloody business. I can see why he's so damn pissy all the time! You people start squealing if he takes a shit that looks like Abraham Lincoln. He gets no peace."

Snape stared at him calmly.  "You have already managed to lose 5 points for Slytherin thanks to that smart mouth of yours; if you wish to lose any more please carry on."

"What do you think I am, Snape? Why would I want to lose points?" Draco asked scornfully, looking down his nose at Snape. "The names and things Har... Potter said are between him and me, and I don't really care if you want to know because I don't want to tell you."

"Mr Malfoy, it would really help us out if you could tell us," Dumbledore pressed gently.

"No it wouldn't," Draco said quickly. "The people were irrelevant to the situation."

"They were?" Harry asked, looking at Draco thoughtfully.  "I can't even remember, so can't you at least tell me?"

"You said something like, 'No don't stop... Draco... Hermione Ron... Seriously, I'm sorry... Dumbledore... I didn't want to go. Don't stop loving me.'" Draco reported.

Harry furrowed his brow as Snape's eyes widened.  "It seems that Potter actually likes the attention he receives from his _fans."_

"Can't you ever shut up?" Draco demanded, rising to his feet with fists clenched.

Snape proceeded to ignore Draco once more.  "Potter, I am going to give you a bottle of a dreamless potion.  At the end of the month I want you to come back to me for another supply.  Always drink it right before you get into bed, never earlier, and never later."

Harry nodded mutely, wondering why Snape was doing this for him.

"You're so stupid!" Draco snapped. "Can't you see that it's important for him to have these dreams? This is like painting over damp rot! It _doesn't make the problem go away_!" 

Draco pushed the potions master aside and walked to Harry's side. 

"Harry, would you rather go into this inevitable battle knowing what will be the consequence of every action, or would you like to go into it completely blind? It sounds like I'm going to be there too, and I don't want you smashing everything up."

"Surely that wouldn't be the case, Headmaster?" Snape asked.

"Actually, Mr. Malfoy may have a point," Albus said mildly. His eyes twinkled. 

"I know I have a point. What do you think, Ha... Potter?" Draco asked again, louder. 

"I..." Harry fell quiet.  "I don't want to face those nightmares again, but if you need me to for the 'final battle' then I will."

Draco raised his hands and sat back. "Not up to me."

"Nor me," Madam Pomfrey said, shaking her head.

"I'm not too happy with it.  Dreams like that could damage Potter mentally, but I don't believe that it is my decision," Snape finally said with a sigh.

"Well, ultimately it's up to you, Harry," Albus sighed, removing his glasses to polish the lenses on his voluminous sleeve. "I can see how they might prove to be an ally, but if you're not mentally well when you face this then it defeats the object of it."

"Can I dream it for him?" Draco asked suddenly.

"Can you what?!" Snape exclaimed.  "Certainly not."

Harry looked on in shock at Draco, mouth hanging open slightly.  "Why would you do that?"

Draco's expression tightened and he shook his head. 

"It's clearly not a popular option. I don't work well when I say whatever comes into my head. Just don't listen to me." 

He turned his head away, hurt and humiliation flickering in his chest. 'Why did you have to say that?'

"Ah, the hex," Snape murmured, apparently satisfied.  He turned from Draco and began discussing quietly with Albus and Poppy.

Harry lay back down on his bed with a sigh, closing his eyes against the glare of the sunlight streaming through the open window, reflecting off the ice crystals and snow.  Why did Draco offer to have the dreams instead of Harry? The parts in between the dream began leaking back slowly and Harry flushed, pulling the covers up over his head slightly.  'Please tell me I didn't plead to Draco, please tell me this is just another twisted dream to hurt me further."

Draco stood up and walked over to his own bed, snatching up his clothes and walking to the door. He kept his head held high, but the skin around his eyes was tightened as he hid behind a mask of cold arrogance. 'Just keep your mouth shut and nothing else can go wrong.'

When Harry finally dropped the cover, convinced that he wasn't blushing as much, Draco was gone.  He sank his head back into his pillow and waited to hear what his fate would be.

Draco slung his cloak about his shoulders as he walked down the corridor, slightly hurt that no one had insisted he stay in the hospital wing. Indeed they had not even noticed he was gone. 

"It's for the best," he whispered to himself.

"Talking to yourself?" Blaise asked with a slight smirk which he dropped quickly when he saw the expression on Draco's face.  Crossing the remaining steps he looked like he was fighting for an expression, concern that Draco looked hurt or relief that Draco was ok.

"Yes," Draco answered, not missing a beat. 

He finally settled with slight concern.  "You ok?"

"Yes," Draco replied flatly. "Well, no, my arse hurts." And it's not the only thing.

"Oh, I heard Potter was taken into the Ward last night, that true?"

"Yes," Draco said tersely. It was getting a bit close to the sore, there.

"Shame," Blaise replied, not in the least bit sympathetic.

"Not really," Draco blurted quietly.

"Hm?" Blaise asked, sure he had heard something.

"He was weird... Saying strange things and waking up randomly."

Blaise blinked and began to walk in the direction of the Library, "care to explain?"

"He had some prophetic dream about the Dark Lord and when he woke up he started saying names - including mine - and asking people not to stop loving him."

Blaise shifted his bag to he other shoulder, waiting for Draco to start walking with him.  "Phropehtic dream? You mean, Potter an now see the future?"

"So it would appear," Draco shrugged, walking after Blaise. "It was strange."

"I'm guessing it was a bad dream with screaming and shouting?" Blaise asked, interested even though he didn't want to be.

"Screaming and shouting and apparently me," Draco agreed. "I was checking his pulse to see if he was okay but he told me not to stop." He didn't want to tell Blaise this. "So I held his hand for ages. I fell asleep."

"Oh," Blaise was practically speechless.  "So he fell asleep holding your hand? Maybe he," he lowered his voice so no one else could overhear, "likes you back?"

"No he doesn't!" Draco snapped in a whisper. His eyes darted. "Don't hit me again."

Blaise smiled slightly, "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Yeah you would," Draco said nervously. "I have a supreme lack of trust where your fists are concerned, you know. You've damaged me permanently."

"I have not!" Blaise protested.

"You have!" Draco objected, poking him in the chest. "Madam Pomfrey couldn't re-do my tooth. She says I have to wait till it's completely healed up."

"Yeah, but when it's healed she can fix it probably.  I'm going to have this little scar on my lip for a long time!" he protested, resisting the urge to poke Draco back.

"Yeah? And I'll have a cobweb on my cheek forever too," Draco snapped, turning his head so Blaise could see the fine tracery of pearly lines, only visible when the light shone onto it.

Blaise frowned, then a grin spread across his features.  "I'm only too sure that Pansy would be happy to cover you in makeup to hide the scar though I find it interesting, like a tattoo."

Apparently, two other girls thought so to.  Blaise looked up from Draco to see two Ravenclaw girls a year above them pointing and giggling at the scar on Draco's chin.

"Hi Draco!" one called as they walked past, the other seemingly amazed by the scar.

Blaise looked over at Draco with a grin.  "Seems other people do to."

"Hey girls," Draco grinned, raising a hand. 

"Why are we going to the library? I'm still in my jammies."

"I need to get an Arithmancy book out.  Vector gave us some homework to be due in after the Christmas Holiday's and there's some extra credit up for grabs, I just need the book." Blaise pulled a slip of parchment out of his bag.  "I'm sure you can handle being in your jammies for a few minutes while I get it, Vector gave me permission."

"I don't have a problem, but I might cause some girls to pass out," Draco said modestly, following Blaise.

Blaise chuckled.  "You've cheered up," he pointed out, nodding to a Slytherin a year younger than them who was coming out of the Library.  

Draco saluted to the Slytherin and grinned. 

"It's something to do with shoving Snape and calling him various unpleasant names."

"You did what?" Blaise asked, eyebrows shooting up.  He handed the note to Madame Pince and leaned against the desk to face Draco.  "You never told me you did _that_."

"There are... There _used to be a lot of things I didn't tell you," Draco shrugged, putting his hands into his pyjama pockets._

"What changed?" Blaise asked as Madame Pince returned with a severely disapproving look at Draco as she handed the book to Blaise.

"The fact that I now tell everyone everything," Draco said with a rueful smile. "I can't seem to stop myself, oddly enough." 

"That's a point," Blaise murmured.  "What happened to the curse?"

"I still have it. I reckon it might be fading a bit. Either that, or I don't think so nastily about people anymore. Your hair looks nice today," he added absently.

"Maybe the counter-cruse doesn't exist," Blaise said thoughtfully.  "It could be one of those spells where you have to *do* something to get better.  In your case, stop thinking so badly."

"Pah," Draco scoffed. "I hate those moralistic notions. There's always a counter-curse, even if it's death."

"There's no counter curse for Avada Kedavra as of yet," Blaise said, putting the book in his bag then beginning to walk to the door again

"The counter for that is death," Draco said doggedly. 

Blaise momentarily paused as he walked then shook his head, "You're mad," he replied with a grin.

"I'm not," Draco said sincerely. "I'm the only person who really sees things the way they are."

"I doubt you're the only one," Blaise replied impassively.  "I know of three more people who think like you do."  He pushed the door open and walked out of the Library, Draco not far behind. 

"They would be?" Draco asked, stepping aside to let a staring Ravenclaw girl pass.

"The Dark Lord for one, Dumbledore and possibly Lucius.  I would have said Crabbe and Goyle because basically, they think that food solves everything, but, you know." He shrugged and pushed some hair out of his eyes, tentatively running a tongue over the scar on his lip.

"The Dark Lord does not view death as a cure," Draco said stiffly. "To him, death is the worst punishment. His one failing is intolerable fear of the grave. He doesn't realise that death is the purest solution." Draco tossed his head slightly, his bangs flicking back from his face. "That's why Potter's going to win."

Blaise stumbled on his next step, then continued walking as if nothing had happened, his shoulders slightly more hunched.  He looked over his shoulder at Draco out of curious eyes.  "Potter is afraid of death.  It's obvious in the way he walks and the way he talks, he's seen death and he doesn't like it.  He's too pure for it."

"No," Draco said fervently, stopping. His eyes were stormy as he glared into Blaise's. "Potter knows death so intimately that he knows who deserves it. The Dark Lord does not. Some people may benefit from being dead, but Potters knows who they are and the Dark Lord has no idea. He kills because he wants to. It's only the ones who are sure that they are justified before they kill who win. Potter's purity means that killing will break him like a *twig*." Draco mimed snapping a stick as he said this, his eyes furiously intense. He let his hands drop to his sides. "He won't risk that until he knows it's the only way."

Turning, Draco continued his walking.

Blaise followed Draco with his eyes for a while before hurriedly catching up and walking next to the boy in silence.  Just what had happened in the Hospital Wing last night?

Madam Pomfrey scuttled around the corner, peering along the corridor. She saw Draco holding his fists parallel before him, then snap them downwards. He seemed very angry. She hoped she could cheer him up a little.

"Draco!" she called, trotting over to him. He stopped, looking puzzled. "If you'll just come with me, we can counter that spell of yours."

"Thanks," Draco said hesitantly. 

"It won't take a minute, you can come too, Mr. Zabini," she smiled.

"I really have to do my homework, Madame Pomfrey," Blaise said hurriedly, 'and I need some time to think alone,' he added silently.  "I'll wait for Draco in the Common Room."

Draco turned, eyes flatly expressionless. "I'll see you there."

He followed Madam Pomfrey as she bustled away, a guiding hand on the small of his back.

***

Harry was lay flat on his back, eyes closed, when Draco and Madame Pomfrey walked into the Hospital Ward.  He had been lay like this for some time, contemplating what Snape and Dumbledore had told him.  These dreams could be mentally scarring, but they could be the only hope he had when he finally faced Voldemort.  Harry put the balls of his fists on his closed eyes, trying to make things darker and take himself away from all these choices he had to make.  Why him? Why not Neville? He gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying aloud at the injustice in the World.

"What's eating him?" Draco asked loudly, pointing. 

"Draco," Poppy hissed. "He needs his rest. Please keep your voice down."

"I can't be bothered. He's awake anyway," Draco pointed out.

Harry ignored the buzz of voices as Madame Pomfrey and Draco talked, trying to find peace of mind so he could finally relax.  The questions still buzzed around his mind, the same ones that he had been asking since the end of last year, followed by new ones.  Why had Draco offered to have the dreams for him? Had Draco noticed his moment of weakness and vulnerability? Would he take advantage of it? His jaw began to ache and he relaxed it slightly, no longer gritting his teeth.

"I'm fine," Harry replied in a tired voice, glad to have someone to talk to so he could have a normal conversation, and not be told that he was going to die or he had to make _yet another_ choice.

"I'm not," Draco reported. "I still have a sore arse from sitting next to you all night, and I can't stop myself from talking randomly." He smiled. "Your eyes are the same colour as the bedspread in my room at home. We could compare them sometime." He considered it. "That'd have to be before father gets out of jail, though. I don't think he'd take too kindly to it..." Draco grimaced. "I'm sorry."

Harry chuckled slightly, "If anyone saw you now, talking to me about bedspreads and your father, someone might get the wrong impression."  

"I don't care," Draco murmured.

Harry's breath hitched as he picked up on what Draco said.  He began to fiddle with the bedspread, unable to look Draco in the eyes for fear that he wouldn't stop looking.  "Do you miss him?"

"Sometimes," Draco admitted. He sighed and sat back. "People don't think he and I get along, but we do. He expects a lot of me, but he's nothing more than a proud father." He paused and looked at Harry. Leaning forwards again, he asked, "How does it feel not having a father?"

"I've never had one to miss," Harry replied quietly.  "I don't know what it's like with one, so I can't answer properly.  I'm sorry."

Draco looked puzzled. "Don't be."

He glanced over his shoulder. Madam Pomfrey was talking to a first year and she still didn't have her wand. 

"I'm sorry for all the things I've said." He smiled. "Make the most of this apology, because it'll be the first and the last. Once this hex wears off, I won't have to be honest and nice anymore. I'm truly sorry for being mean to you all these years. I have something else I want to tell you." Draco's face was drained, but high colour tinged his cheekbones. "Potter... Harry, I..."

"Draco!" Madam Pomfrey called in a singsong voice. "Come on, dear."

Draco cast a desperate glance at Harry before standing up and walking over to the nurse. They stepped behind and curtain and were gone from vision.

Harry wasn't sure whether he was dreaming or not.  The grass is always greener on the other side, and he was on that other side.  With Draco.  He frowned, turning on his side, finding a pen and tearing some parchment from the back of one of his books.

_Draco,_

_I think that now is about time we finally had a talk.  With certain things going on, and Voldemort - surprised? I can say his name too - now in full reign I need to get to grips with things, and you seem to be standing there, confusing me at every turn._

_Meet me tonight in the small courtyard near Hagrids cabin (follow the left path around the castle) and we'll talk._

_I'll be waiting, but not forever._

_Harry___

Draco stepped out from behind the screen, feeling somehow clogged. He couldn't tell if he felt better or worse. He looked up. He had ten paces to decide how he would act towards Potter. Nine, eight, seven. What do I do? Six, five, four. I could be nice in private and mean in public. Three, two. But there won't BE private anymore. One. 

Draco looked up and smiled warmly to Harry. He turned to wave to Madam Pomfrey and made to walk to the door.

Deciding in a split second when Draco smiled at him, Harry jumped out of his bed and raced across the floor.  "Draco, wait!" He grabbed the other boys hand to stop him, pressing the note into his palm.  As Draco turned Harry half closed his eyes, looking at Draco through black eyelashes.  He gave him a meaningful look, squeezed his hand then dropped it to return to his bed.

Draco looked at Harry in amazement, fist clenching around the note protectively. 

"Bye, Harry," he said in a puzzled tone, pulling the door open and walking out.

Once the door creaked shut behind him, Draco dropped his back against the wall and unfolded the note with trembling fingers. He scanned it, then read it again, twice. Swallowing hard, Draco pushed off from the wall and ran down the corridor towards the dorms and common room.

***

Harry ambled into the Gryffindor Common Room while the rest of the students were in the Great Hall.    He was shivering with barely suppressed energy as he calmly walked around the sofa and up to the Boys Dorm.  He discarded the top of his pyjamas and walked into the bathroom, running a basin of cold water.  

He splashed his face with it and splayed his fingers across his nose and cheeks, eyes poking out through the gaps.  "I've officially lost it," he murmured.

"And you needed to tell me that? You're talking to yourself, boy," Dean grinned, walking in and slapping him on the back. 

Harry groaned as he turned his head to the side to look at Dean and reached for a towel.  "What would you say if I sent a note back?" he asked.

"Sent a note?" Dean looked puzzled.

"Nevermind," Harry replied, toweling his face dry.  He walked past Dean and slung the towel back on the rack absently.  "Where are the others?"

"Heeeeeeere!" came a shout as Seamus's head appeared from his trunk, hair disheveled.  "You ok now Harry?"

"Yeah, how are you?" Ron asked, sounding a lot more concerned than the others.

"I'm fine," Harry replied, running a hand through his hair and pulling on some black pants.  He paused to pull on a dark red shirt before talking again, "thanks, Ron.  For taking me to the Hospital Wing."

"Don't mention it," Ron said distantly. "Malfoy was there too. He didn't do anything to you in your sleep, did he?"

'I wish' "No, Ron.  He actually helped me, sort of." Harry frowned and polished his glasses on his bedspread before putting them back on.  "Did I miss anything important?" he asked, noticing that although it was only the day after Christmas, most of the decorations had been taken down.

"Helped you?" Seamus asked, sitting cross-legged on his bed with a giant book across his lap.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked. "I don't think anything important happened, but Malfoy helping you..."

Harry blushed slightly, ducking his head to hide it from the other boys.  He sprayed some cologne on and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  "Yeah, he kind of talked to me to calm me down while Voldemort killed me..."

"Voldemort was there?!" Seamus nearly shouted, looking across at Dean then back again at Harry, mouth wide open.

"Harry, seriously, You-Know-Who?" Ron gaped.

"No!" Harry exclaimed loudly.  "He was in my dream.  No, not Malfoy - Voldemort," he explained.  "And then Malfoy was there and it all gets confusing.  Look, I'll talk about it later, ok?" He stood up.

"Not OK," Ron said, reaching out to grab Harry's sleeve, but he relented. "Go if you want."

Harry looked down at Ron's hand.  "I will," he said defiantly, and then he was gone.

Seamus blinked as the door shut.  "What's up with him?"

"No idea," Ron answered, looking like Bambi when he's just been kicked. "I just want to make sure he's OK."

Seamus's eyes suddenly lit up.  "I bet he's on a date!" he sang.

"Harry?" Ron scoffed. He hesitated. "That sounded quite mean of me, didn't it?" he asked with a guilty cringe.

"You're a nasty bastard sometimes," Dean grinned, shoving Ron gently. "You and Malfoy should get it together."

Seamus snickered, "No one would want to be with Malfoy.  No one."

***

Draco closed his eyes against the branches whipping his face. It felt almost odd to be back in his clothes again. He raised an arm to fend a particularly vicious holly branch from his face as he followed the path Potter had described, the note clutched in his other hand. He looked up. There was the gamekeeper's hut, but where was Potter?

Harry leaned his head back and stared at the sky, the bright white lights that were the stars twinkling down at him.  Harry sighed, wondering if he was making a mistake as he sat here in the bitterly cold, staring at the night sky and waiting for Draco Malfoy.

Draco crossed the clearing, spotting a reflection off a pair of glasses. 

"Potter," he called quietly.

Harry dropped his head to look across the grass to find the owner of the voice.  A ghost of a smile appeared on his face as he moved up the bench to let Draco sit down.

"What did you want to talk to me about," Draco asked reluctantly, sitting as far away from Harry as he could.

"Our rivalry and the rose; you started to explain, but Filch interrupted." Harry stared straight ahead, holding a leaf in his hand and stroking it with his thumb.

Draco sighed.

"I'm not in the mood to answer questions unless they're yes or no," he said, closing his eyes and gripping the edge of the bench in gloved fingers.

"Ok then," Harry replied evenly.  "By touching the rose have I invoked some family rite?"

"Yes."

"Does it mean I can no longer hate you?"

"You can hate me, but the only solution is death or resolution."

"I never hated you," Harry replied with a small laugh.  "People assumed things too much." He put his hands under his legs to keep them from freezing over, the leaf now on the floor.

"Well, we're linked," Draco snapped. He felt curiously irritated and could not put his finger on it. Maybe it was because he had been let down by Harry - why didn't he hate Draco? Draco had put his all into being detested by the Potter boy.

"I gathered that," Harry replied, looking up at the sky again, not noticing that Draco was irritated.  "So what does it mean? I need to know so I can find a way around it.  I don't want Voldemort hurting more people than is necessary."

"It won't hurt anyone and it means nothing."

"Then why is it so annoying and why can't I stop thinking about picking up that rose?" Harry demanded, turning his head to look at Draco.  "It means something and I want to know.  You're hiding something from me."

"Yes," Draco answered simply.

"Then why can't you tell me?" Harry asked, annoyed.  He clenched his hands into fists under his knees.

"Because then you won't leave me alone," Draco replied with an ironic smile that did not hold any mirth.

Harry scowled and crossed his arms over his chest.  He fell into annoyed and angry silence.  He didn't want to talk now, Draco was playing with him, he could tell.  He resisted the urge to pout.

Draco sat in silence for a moment before relenting. 

"The rose bound us. Usually, someone who is in love with someone or hates them beyond belief will send them a bloody rose. That way, they are bound until they forgive, fall in love or die, depending on the intentions of the sender."

"I was the sender?" Harry muttered, more of a question than a statement.  "It's not fair.  That's not fair."  He stormed to his feet and walked away a few feet, angrily clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Why do I have to get into these stupid situations without fucking knowing?!" he demanded, hot tears furiously fighting to be freed.  "I don't want to be involved in a prophecy and a rite! I want to be normal, I want out!" he yelled, sinking to his knees on the floor.

"No, I was the sender," Draco amended. "My blood, my rose."

"I don't care," Harry spat.  "It's another stupid thing for me to be tied up in.  I don't want to be involved in all this stuff, I don't want to have to choose to die or do what I want to do but know I can't.  I don't want to kill or be killed," his voice was getting quieter and the tears were finally falling.  "I don't want to be me."

Draco opened his mouth in shock. 

"Potter... You're crying?"

"Yes I'm fucking crying.  Go away Malfoy if you have nothing to say." He continued to shake, on his knees on the cold green grass, crying tears he had held up for years.

Draco walked over to Harry and dropped to his knees beside him. 

"I had something to say, but now I don't have the strength to do it. All I wanted at the time was for us to set aside our differences and start listening to each other. We have. The bond will break soon." He took a breath. "There's one more thing."

Harry unconsciously welcomed the warmth of Draco's body next to him, but he could hardly see through his tears which he was still crying.  He was barely listening to Draco; he wanted to run away, to get away from the unfairness of it all.  He wanted to run away and live by himself, away from them all.  Let them save themselves.  But he knew he wouldn't go, he'd stay for them, he'd stay for Draco.  He knew this, and he hated it.  He couldn't escape from what was sure to be his demise.  He dropped his head forward, chin landing on his chest with a dull thump.

He didn't want this.  He didn't want any of it.  He wanted someone to take it all away; to take the pain away like Draco had done last night when he pulled Harry through the dream.

Harry flushed at the memory, glad it was dark and that Draco couldn't read his mind.  Finally, he tuned into what Draco was saying.

'The bond will break? Do I really want it to?' he asked himself, but didn't know the answer.

"One more thing?" he asked, unable to hide the tremble in his voice.  Not something else, please.

Draco gave a rueful laugh. "At the time, I was wondering what it would be like to kiss you."

"At the time?" Harry echoed, brain refusing to give him an explanation for the second half of the sentence.

"At the time I was holding the rose and cut myself, therefore at the time the conditions of the bound were stated," Draco explained. He flicked his cloak back and pulled the cuff of his shirt out from under his jersey, using it to wipe Harry's eyes gently, and with an intent expression.

Harry's mouth made an 'o' of slight surprise as butterflies jumped in his chest.  'He has to kiss me for it to end?'

"But..."

"Well, it's up to you," Draco said, his eyes narrowing in a very slight smile. "I'm not bothered either way." He put his hands on the ground in preparation to stand up.

"Don't," Harry commanded in a soft voice.  "You don't tell someone something like _that_ and then leave."

"You don't know me that well, then," Draco smiled, but he sank back to sit on his heels. 

"Then I'll have to get to know you," Harry replied, watching Draco out of the corner of his eye.  "What would happen if you didn't end the curse, but one didn't die either?" he asked.

"It's not a curse," Draco said patiently. "It ends with death or resolution."

"No in-between?"

"Kiss me or die, Potty."

"That sounds awfully scary, Malfoy," Harry replied with a slight smirk.  He attempted to push himself up off the grass but stumbled, his legs falling beneath him, dead after he had been resting on them for so long.

Draco reached up and caught Harry mid-fall. 

"You asked for the truth," he said darkly. "I'll be going now."

Harry held tightly onto Draco's shirt as he righted himself and dusted his pants which were now covered in grass stains.  "You can ask me something in return," he replied.  "It's only fair."

"I'm not the bargaining type, only usually I take and don't give," Draco smiled. His hands still gripped Harry's ribcage. Curiosity overtook him. "Potter, do you like me? More than is customary?"

"You'll have to figure that one out for yourself, Malfoy," Harry replied as he pulled out of Draco's grasp slowly, turned and left.

"But..." Draco stood up slowly, watching Harry walk away. His puzzled expression turned to a silent snarl and he thrust his hands into his pockets, walking briskly away from the clearing. After a dozen paces, he caught up with Harry.

"Stupid question," he said, by way of apology.

"Ask a stupid question get a stupid answer," Harry replied, glancing out of the corner of his eyes at Draco as he fell into step.

Draco tipped his head back with a laugh. "It's not very noble of you to offer me a free question and neglect to answer it."

"It's not very noble of you to as a personal question such as that," Harry replied evenly, putting his hands into his pockets.

Draco closed his eyes and turned his head towards Harry, only reopening them to look up at Potter through his lashes with a sultry expression. 

"I was just curious," he drawled.

"How about if I asked you the question and you replied honestly? You'd get two questions to ask me in return," Harry offered.  He turned his head slightly to the side to look down at Draco, green eyes glinting with mischief.  'Go on, I dare you.'

"You don't have to dare _me, Potter," Draco said loftily. "I'm not too much of a wuss to answer straight off."_

Harry smirked then turned to look away from Draco.  "No point in asking someone a question you wouldn't answer yourself."

"Precisely. I take it that means you won't ask it, then?" Draco asked with a smirk.

"Naturally,"

Harry stared at the path ahead of them with a thoughtful expression.  "You still have a question."

"I do," Draco nodded, secretly relieved. "Are you gay?"

Harry sighed, "One track mind I see."  He frowned and continued to look at the path thoughtfully.  "In all truth? Partially."

Draco grinned, his teeth shining in the darkness. 

"Me too."

"Then there's finally something we agree on," Harry pointed out with a short smile.  "In a way."

"There are plenty of things," Draco told him, shaking his head. "I know there are, but then I've been watching you and you've been trying to pretend I don't exist."

Harry raised an eyebrow to look at Draco.  "Really?" he asked, unable to hide the surprise.  "I thought that you were planning on more ways to kill me.  Immature, I know, but what else could I think when you put every ounce of your being into hating me?"

"I suppose it would appear that way," Draco surmised. "I started out watching you to see if I could trip you up, but you're a fascinating person, Harry." He stopped himself, gazing up at the stars peering through the wispy film of clouds.

Harry paused to stop and watch Draco walk on slightly ahead, looking at the sky.  Harry followed his gaze then fell into step with him again.  "I'm not the only one."

"Oh?" Draco asked completely absently. "Who else is fascinating?"

Harry blinked.  "You," he replied, without hesitating.

Draco glanced at him, arching a brow. "Not really. I'm a simple creature with simple urges."

"You're different.  No one else looks at things the way you do, understands things how you do.  I've never met a single person who is, well, you." He frowned, trying to search for a word.

"I tried to explain to Blaise that the way things work is really simple. We are born, we learn, we make a mistake, we die. He didn't understand." Draco looked up at Harry. "You don't think like I do. How come you even noticed it and don't just think I'm morbid?"

"Everyone has their own views on life, who am I to judge?" Harry shrugged.  "That's your view and like everyone else, I respect it."

"No one respects me," Draco scoffed quietly. "People respect my status. They couldn't care less if I believed that fluffy bunnies would be the downfall of the world."

"No, then people would think you're strange." And then, more quietly, "I respect you."

"That's... You do?" Draco tried not to sound surprised. "Thanks, I guess."

He paused in mid-stride. 

"I think you know what it's like to have people respect what you are without respecting you yourself."

"I've learnt to live with it.  That's not to say I don't like it, but it's tough really." Harry's voice seemed somewhat depressed and he looked at the path again.  "I'd give anything to be someone else for a day, to have a normal life style."

"Don't pick me when the time comes," Draco grinned, putting his hands up. "See, I told you we had a lot in common."

Harry stuck his tongue out at Draco.  "So you were right.  I've never really thought about it before."

"Because you're a Gryffindork," Draco said confidently. "Don't think, just act."

"It's got me this far."

"As has my method," Draco said reasonably.

"And what's your method? Glare till they run away and if they stay befriend them?" Harry asked.  

Draco looked hurt. "I gave up the nice approach after I first spoke to you," he said eventually.

"You insulted Ron, the first person to talk to me.  What did you expect I was going to do?" Harry asked with slight anger forming in his voice.

"I've been brought up... I don't know," Draco said, looking down at his feet.

"You can always change, you know." Harry reached out a hand to place on Draco's shoulder then thought better of it and dropped it to his side.  "I wonder what things would be like if we had become friends then."

"Crap," Draco said instantly. "And no, I won't change. Not for money, not for success, not for fame, not for immortality. Not for you." He looked away and quickened his pace.

Harry felt the comment sting and watched Draco walk away faster.  He sighed, burying his hands deeper into his pockets and watching the back of Draco's head intently.  "Why did you ask to be my friend, Draco? Five years ago on the train.  You didn't even know me, only the enigma.  The great 'Harry Potter' the media had created."

Draco didn't answer for a time, but he slowed down slightly. 

"Why not?" he asked. "You can be friends with anyone. Why can't I?"

"You seemed to idolise your father so much, I could tell from the moment I saw you in the way you walked.  You could be friends with anyone you wanted, but you preferred to practically demand them to be.  That's why I said no." He decided to carry on before Draco walked off, "but now, this year, you've changed without your father around.  It's like you've become a whole different person, and this time people have been noticing you.  You can still have any friend you want, but you know how to go about it now.  Why else would I be your friend now and not then?"

"I didn't demand..." Draco began coldly, but he stopped. "You're not my friend, Potter. You're just one of the others who wants to tell me how to live... how to love."

He turned. "I don't need telling, Harry."

Harry didn't know what was happening, one second he was stood quite far away from Draco and the next he was wrapping his arms around the boy from behind.

"I'm not telling you," he said quietly, breath stirring the hairs on the back of Draco's neck.  "I'm showing you."

Draco froze, a ripple running through his body. He leaned back against Harry involuntarily then jumped. 

"Fuck, I can hear something." He snatched Harry's hand and made to pull him into a bush, but it was too late. He stopped and straightened up slowly. 

"Gentlemen," a crisp voice said. Draco looked guiltily into the eyes of Professor Grubbly-Plank. "It's a little late to be out on the border of the forest, don't you think?"

Draco nodded, looking at the floor. 

"Detention, I think. Tomorrow, if you'd like to come with me, we can muck out the unicorn paddock. Eleven a.m., please." She stood; heels together and toes pointing out, hands linked behind her back, waiting for them to leave. 

Draco nodded. "Tomorrow. Sorry professor." Reluctantly, he dropped Harry's hand and walked back towards the castle.

Harry looked up at Grubbly-Planks stern stare and felt the need to kill the annoying woman who had taken Hagrid's position for a while.  Finally, forcing a sickeningly sweet smile on his face he mumbled his apologies and briskly walked off after Draco.  As they got into the Entrance Hall and away from Grubbly-Plank he grabbed Draco's hand again and turned him around, putting a defiant face on.

"Will you let me show you?" he asked.

Draco's lips parted and his breath steamed slightly in the cold air from the slowly closing door. He flicked his tongue over his lips, pulling them together, and swallowed. 

"W- I ... Will I _let...?" Draco fumbled over the words to the point of stopping himself to take a breath and start again. "Yes."_

Harry seemed to relax, his face breaking into a wide smile that he hadn't been able to use since Cedric had died.  "Thank you."

He glanced over his shoulder at the doors.  "What time did she say it was? I really don't want to stay out any longer than necessary..."

"She didn't. She just said it was late."

"In other words, it's not late and she's just a sadistic bitch who wants to ruin some fun." Harry nodded.

A ghost of Draco's typical smirk flitted across his face. "Ruin some fun?"

Harry raised his eyebrow in return.  "I was under the impression that _you_ leaned on _me."_

"You were the one who put your arms around my waist, you poofter," Draco teased amiably.

"You were talking about Love and Friendships." Harry shrugged Draco's comment off.

"I wasn't. I was talking about hatred, misery and solitude."

"I'm not exactly going to show you hatred, misery and solitude am I?" Harry asked.

"You'd better not," Draco smiled.

Harry laughed and, remembering he was still holding it, dropped Draco's hand.  "I promise." He paused for a while, looking around.  "I wonder what anyone would say if they saw us having a normal conversation?"

"I wonder what anyone would say," Draco said, clearing his dry throat, "if they saw me do this."

Harry's eyes widened slowly, as all sorts of ideas of what Draco could possibly do next flew into his mind.  And the only way to find out was to wait, even though he didn't want to right now.

Draco stepped up to Harry and slid his hand around the back of the boy's neck, fingers burying in the soft raven hair. Draco rested his other hand on Harry's jutting hipbone and lifted his face to the black-haired boy's, eyes lidded. Their noses touched and the Slytherin could feel the slight hairs on Harry's lip brushing against his own. 

Then he stopped, a smirk building on his lips, so close to Harry's. 

"I'm not about to cut this bond just yet," he murmured. "It might be useful yet." 

He slipped his hands free and held Harry's eyes for a moment before walking down the side corridor to the dungeons.


	7. Detention

Play the Game

By Micro-chick and Morgana Malfoy

A/N: The after-events of the near kiss appear: Draco and Harry react in such different ways, but the result is the same. Rumors spread like wildfire in the Gryffindor House while Draco and Harry do detention in the Unicorn paddock.  Draco narrowly misses Quidditch Practice and explains something _else_ to Blaise, and this miraculously becomes a filler chapter 

_Since when was love a game? Draco Malfoy does not play games.  Chess, cards, and quidditch are games.  Love doesn't have rules… right? Therefore it's not a game.  But why are both the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike no longer playing by the rules?_

Chapter Seven

Harry had hardly slept the previous night, tortured by dreams of Draco and the almost near-kiss in the Entrance Hall last night.  Ron, Dean, Seamus, they all wanted details as to where he'd be gone, why he'd been so long, and why he was looking so happy and confused.  Harry had avoided the questions he didn't want to answer, and answered the rest vaguely.  Hermione, Ginny, Lavender, Parvati, they had seen right through him, he could tell that they knew he had been somewhere with someone else, and they knew he knew they new.

He hurriedly stopped that train of thought, knowing that it would only confuse him further in this little mess that Draco had created, or, was the solution to.  Harry scowled, he didn't like feeling so detached, and wanted to do _something_ just what, he hadn't figured out yet.

The fresh crisp grass crackled under his feet, still partially frozen but no longer covered in snow, only early-morning dew and rainwater.  There was bird song somewhere in the distance, Robin's singing their small little hearts out while the giant squid propelled itself across the Lake, savoring the peace before the rest of the school came out to talk and relax, enjoying the last week of their Christmas Holiday.

Harry looked across from the Lake at Hagrid's cabin and the smoke coming out of the top in a steady stream.  He smiled slightly, and vowed to visit Hagrid later on and thank him for the fudge.  As he walked past the hut he caught sight of the Unicorn Paddock and by placing one hand on the face, jumped over and landed inside with a squelch on the wet mud.  Grubbly-Plank was no where in sight yet.

Draco walked uncomfortably, the cuffs of his trousers scraping against each other where he had tucked them into his scruffiest pair of boots to keep them out of the mud. He wore faded black jeans and a thick woolen jersey to keep out the biting chill. He was painfully aware of not looking all that glamorous, but an irrepressible voice inside him said that if Potter really wanted him, he wouldn't care about the sloppy clothes. Without knowing it, Draco did exactly as Harry had done and vaulted the fence, his footprint landing within the Gryffindor's. 

"Nice morning for some shit-scooping," he called cheerily to the other boy when he saw him.

Harry pulled a face, looking over his shoulder at Draco as he moved to sit on the fence.  "If she's not here in ten minutes I'm leaving."

"Upon your head be it," Draco said amiably, jumping up and resting his feet on the next bar down.

"In other words, you won't be coming?" Harry asked.

"Nope," Draco beamed. "I plan to prove that I, Draco Malfoy, can scoop shit along with the best of them."

"Well done," Harry replied bitterly.  He hated, absolutely _hated Grubbly-Plank, Unicorns and Unicorn waste._

Draco grinned at Harry and shoved him affectionately. "You're more of an aristocrat than you make out, Potty."

Harry dug his nails into the fence to keep from falling off the rickety wood.  "I am not!" he protested.

"Now don't worry. We true snobs pride ourselves on being rather down-to-earth," Draco laughed. He knew he was babbling, but he had to do something to cover the noise his heart must be making as it thumped away in his arid throat. 

"Mhmm," Harry replied vaguely, mustering the courage.  Finally, he looked at Draco sternly.  "Draco, about last ni..." he trailed off as he saw someone approach them.

"Later," Draco muttered irritably. 

"Nice to see you're here, gentlemen," Grubbly-Plank said, snapping her heels together. "There are the scoops. There's the manure. There's the bin to put it in. Get mucking." She marched away again as quickly as she had appeared. 

Draco slipped down from the fence. 

"About last night?" he prompted, picking up a shovel.

"Wha... Wh? Hm.  I-- Dammit this is harder than I thought." Harry frowned; if he had been any younger he probably would have thrown a tantrum.  "Why?"

"Because you were asking... Oh." Draco loaded his shovel. "Why which bit?"

Harry idly threw his shovel from one hand to another and stared at it as if it held all the secrets of the universe.  "Why me I guess.  Why then? Why now? Why didn't you finish what you started? Why am I confused?" he asked finally.

"You owe me five answers," Draco smiled. "You, because I like you. Then, because I couldn't hold it any longer. Now because it's about the only time we can guarantee privacy. I didn't finish it because I wanted to see what you'd do. You're confused because you're sexually frustrated." As if the matter was finished, Draco began shoveling shit into the bin at the side of the paddock.

"Argh!" Harry yelled, even more frustrated now as he began shoveling to take his mind of things.  "I hate you so much sometimes," he growled.

Draco looked hurt. "That's not fair!" he protested.

Harry flicked some hair back.  "What you did was not fair!" he replied angrily.  "You didn't even finish, dammit!" he yelled, then slapped a hand over his mouth, took a deep breath, turned, and went back to shoveling as if nothing had happened.

Draco's eyebrows raised and an openmouthed grin split his face. He stood up straight and leaned on his shovel, planting the other hand on his hip. 

"Oho ho, Potty really _is frustrated," he gloated with a grin. _

Harry scowled, and whipped out his wand.  He casually flicked it and the paddock was suddenly clean.  "She never said we couldn't use magic," he said darkly as he strode over to Draco and glared at him.  "Stop being so... frustrating!" he demanded, at a loss.  

Draco looked despairingly at the clean paddock. "I was hoping to spend quality time with you..." He glanced up. "Am I really bothering you?"

"I don't know _what's bothering me," Harry replied, exasperated._

"Do you want to finish what we started?" Draco asked, shrugging,

"I don't know!" Harry exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air and turning away from Draco.

Draco had the horrific sense of his stomach dropping out. 'I fucked up. I really fucked up.'

"Okay, well, I'll be going then," he said hesitantly.

Harry sighed and his outer shell seemed to crumble, crack and fade as his shoulders slumped and his head dropped.  He barely stopped his knees from buckling.

"I hate being confused and upset and not knowing what to do without hurting someone," he muttered quietly, unaware that Draco could still hear him.

Draco stopped, walking quietly back to where Harry stood. He wrapped his arms around the Gryffindor and laid his cheek against his shoulder. 

"You haven't hurt me in a while," he lied.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's slim waist and rested his head on the silky smooth silver head of hair.  "I've hurt myself," he said quietly, "By telling myself things that aren't real."

"What's not real?" Draco asked, breath catching.

"Any moment now," Harry murmured, "I'm going to wake up and this will all be another dream."

"If it's a dream, I'm dreaming it too, then I'll come and find you and we can make it reality," Draco assured him solemnly.

Carefully, Harry released a hand from Draco's waist and moved it to the back of Draco's neck, playing with the soft hair absently as he closed his eyes slightly.

A tremor ran through the blond Slytherin as he stood in this circle of the ultimate perfect moment. Taking a breath, he raised his hand to lift Harry's chin gently with a finger, closing his own eyes after sweeping them over Harry's face like searchlights. A faint smile played about Harry's lips, so Draco took that as an okay. His brows knitted together as he gave in finally. As his lips met the Gryffindor's, a wave of relief swept over him and he wrapped his arm around Harry's back, determined not to let this end.

Harry paused, suddenly drawn out of the peaceful calmness he had been in by Draco's lips landing perfectly on his.  His eyes fluttered open and he thought about pushing Draco away and running.  This wasn't what he wanted was it? He wanted to get away, but kissing Draco was like coming home.  Finally, after being so tense for so many weeks he relaxed, into Draco, into peace of mind and into the kiss.  Suddenly, nothing mattered anymore.

***

"I'm just worried about him," Ron sighed, sitting back in his armchair and looking broodingly out of the dark, frost-laced windows. 

Hermione looked up from her Runes, running her quill along her bottom lip in thought. "He's just never here any more," she added.

"I thought at first that he had a girlfriend, but I think he'd tell me that," Ron said sullenly. 

Hermione didn't look so sure. "He'd tell me, and he hasn't. You don't think... He might have a boyfriend, you know," she said wisely. 

Ron's expression was of shock. "He's not a ... one of them, is he?"

Hermione sighed heavily. "Harry leans in either direction." Before Ron could protest, she raised a silencing hand. "It does not change who he is, so I want you to be behind him completely."

Ron looked shocked, then sniggered. "Behind him?"

"Shut up Ron!" Hermione said heatedly, flushing. She crumpled a sheet of parchment and threw it at him with all her might. It bounced off Ron and rolled away harmlessly. 

"I promise to keep my mouth shut," Ron giggled. "But if it's not that he has a boyfriend, then I refuse to shut up."

Parvati's ears pricked up as she lay on her back on the sofa across from Ron and Hermione.  Carefully, she turned onto her front and leaned her chin on the armchair.  "Lavender!" she hissed.  "Psst, Lavender!" 

"Yeah?" Lavender asked, looking up from her freshly painted nails. 

"You-know-who," she said with a look so Lavender would know who she was talking about, "has got a _boyfriend!"_

"You're _kidding!" Lavender breathed. "Get out of here..." Her eyes took on a vacant shine as she stared into space in open-mouthed wonder. _

"I know!" Parvati squealed, eyes drifting off out of focus to imagine Harry with the various boys of Hogwarts, chin rested on the arm of the sofa.

Seamus poked Dean hard in the side with his elbow, and continued to read his D.A.D.A book.  "Did you hear that?" he asked, sounding scandalized.  "You-know-who's got a boyfriend!"  He shuddered.  "That's just sick."

"Who'd kiss HIM?" Dean demanded. "I mean... No, I can't even imagine that." His nose wrinkled as he looked utterly disgusted and confused. 

"Is it possible for You-know-who to be gay?" Seamus asked as he turned a page in his book normally, as if he was reading.  "That's just... urgh."

"Does he have a thing?" Dean asked. "No, don't even try to answer that."

Dennis Creevey gave a squeaky gasp as he walked past the two older boys and broke into a scrawny jog to Colin, his elder brother, on the other side of the room. 

"Colin!" he squeaked. "You-Know-Who's homosexual!" 

"Ah," Colin said sagely. Being a close personal friend of Harry Potter, he rather prided himself on his knowledge of the 'You-Know-Who Situation', as he liked to refer to it. "I suspected as much."

Ginny blinked, looked at Colin and Dennis and quickly moved as far away from them as she could, walking over to Hermione and Ron who were sat on the other side of the room.

"Dennis Creevey's a homosexual," she said to them in a quiet voice.  "He just told Colin like it was some big thing and Colin was 'ok, that's nice'."

"Bloody hell," Ron said, raising his eyebrows. "I just found out someone else is too." He leaned closer to Ginny. "Harry's bi."

Hermione could be seen to roll her eyes.

"He is?!" Ginny demanded in a high voice.  She prided herself on being able to know almost everything about Harry; after all, she had watched him for five years.  "Dennis... Harry... Bad combination."

"Not with DENNIS!" Ron yelped then he froze, looking to Hermione out of stricken eyes for reassurance. 

"I don't_ know," she snapped. "He might be dating Dennis for all I know."_

"Ah!" Ron said triumphantly. "But Dennis is here and Harry is not."

Neville jumped as Trevor bounced out of his hands and he stumbled to his feet, knocking a book off the table.  "Trevor!" he yelled, picking up the frog and sitting down next to Dean and Seamus.  "Ron's first kiss was with a boy," he said breathlessly as he clutched Trevor close to his chest.  "But it wasn't _Dennis," he said with a meaningful look._

"You mean it was with Colin?" Dean said, leaping on this juicy bit of blackmail. "Wow, I didn't think Ron was the type." He half-raised from his seat to peer across at Ron. "Well, well, well," he said, rubbing his hands together.

Seamus finally gave up pretending to look at his book.  "You're kidding?!" he asked, amazed.

Neville shook his head.  "He just told Ginny and I overheard.  Don't tell anyone," he pleaded.

"Oh, we won't," Dean said, but his tone was gleeful and disconcerting. "Not a word to anyone."

Parvati's mouth would have dropped open had her chin not been resting on the arm of the sofa.  "Lavender!" she called in a sing-song voice.  "Guess who Neville just found out likes him?"

"Who?" Lavender demanded. She was almost exploding with all the fresh rumors.

"Ron," Parvati replied as she climbed off the sofa and hugged Lavender eagerly.  "This year is going to be so much _fun! Think of all the people we can help get together!"_

"Ron likes NEVILLE?" Lavender squealed. "I don't believe this!"

Parvati clapped her hands excitedly.  "It seems the lads have all discovered each other and their feelings!" she said, bursting with plans and happiness.  "We _have to talk to Dean and Seamus to see if they know anymore..."_

"Oooooh!" Lavender squealed, hopping out of her seat and running over to Dean and Seamus. She leaned over breathlessly, giving them a clear view down the front of her low-cut school jersey. 

"Boys," she began in a seductive tone. "We heard that Ron's fallen for Neville. Do you know anything else?"

Parvati hooked a finger in one of the belt loops in Neville's trousers and pulled him away from Dean and Seamus.  "We know all about it!" she exclaimed.  "Rest assured, we'll sort Ron out."  She winked, and with that flounced over to promptly sit on Dean's lap.  "Yes boys, do tell us."

"Ron's fallen for NEVILLE?!" Seamus demanded, and then sat back in his chair.  "Wow.  Did you know Vol...You-know-who's gay?" he asked conspiratorially.

"Wow, not yet!" Lavender exclaimed, sitting on his lap. "Give us all the goss."

"The only other thing I know is that Ron's first kiss was with Colin Creevey." He nodded knowingly and flashed a grin in Dean's direction before wrapping his arms around Lavender's waist.

Dean smirked, hooking an arm around Parvati's waist. "Have you two got any personal secrets? Truth or dare."

Parvati laughed.  "Maybe."  She stuck her tongue out at Dean.  "Find some more stuff out for us and we might just let you in on what _we_ know."

Seamus suddenly brightened.  "What about that note?" he asked.  "The one off Malfoy."

"The note?" Dean asked. "Don't know anything about it. Hey girls, you know that flash watch Harry's got? Malfoy sent it to him."

"No, way." 

"Yes way," Dean laughed. "Malfoy and Harry... What do you reckon?" 

"Ooooh," Lavender groaned, on the verge of drooling.

"Never gonna happen." Seamus replied.  "Not possible if you think about it.  They hate each other."

***

Draco was initially deeply surprised that Harry actually kissed back. He had expected to be shoved away from pursed lips and never be spoken to again. Many, many scenes flashed before his eyes, and it took him a while to see that they were all times that he had imagined this moment. Though perhaps without the shit and the detention. 

The thought made him laugh and he couldn't stop. He had to pull away from Harry's lips and lean his forehead against the other boy's, gripping his shoulders to stop himself collapsing with laughter.

Harry blinked as reality came crashing down and opened his eyes properly to see Draco laughing.  Casting quick glances around, Harry caught onto what he was laughing about, their first kiss being in the middle of the Unicorn Paddock in detention.

Draco leant his forehead on Harry's and he relaxed at the gesture and smiled, letting his eyes close again while Draco carried on laughing. 

Draco felt a curious lifting as he laughed - something he hadn't done in a long, long while. He subsided finally, gazing into Harry's face and smiling. 

"I could have picked a better venue, but nooo," he teased. "You had to get us in detention."

"I'm not regretting it," Harry replied as he continued to play with the soft hair on the back of Draco's neck.

Draco lifted Harry's glasses from his eyes, slipping them into his own pocket and shutting the other boy's eyes gently with a finger, which he then ran along the soft ends of Harry's pitch black eyelashes. 

"I'll keep these," he said, patting his pocket.

"Mhmm," Harry murmured, unable to make a coherent sentance.  His smile grew slightly as he continued to lean on Draco.  "I love you," he whispered quietly.

Draco's heart skipped a beat then simply stopped. He started leaning backwards and caught onto Harry desperately. 

"Say that again," he said hoarsely, staring at him. 

Harry opened his eyes and leaned closer to Draco, their lips brushing.  "I love you," he repeated, more confidently before he kissed Draco again and moved his other hand up to tilt Draco's chin up slightly.

"I love you too," Draco murmured, before deepening their kiss. 

Harry pulled back reluctantly and looked up at the school.  "Everyone'll be coming out soon," he said quietly, checking his watch.  "We've been out her nearly an hour."

"Bollocks," Draco murmured, he gripped Harry's wrist and peered at his watch. "QUIDDITCH PRACTICE!" He ran and vaulted the fence, sprinting to the pitch without a backward glance, Harry's glasses still in his pocket.

Harry froze at the sudden lack of warmth Draco's body had previously provided and wrapped his arms around himself, frowning slightly.  Quidditch.  He'd have to play Draco.  Once Draco was out of sight he turned and decided to go and finally visit Hagrid.

***

"Blaise," Draco called, catching his friend's sleeve at the end of the practice. "Can I talk to you?"

Blaise looked over his shoulder at Draco, noting the difference in his friend's appearance and aura almost immediately.  "Sure."

He sat down on the bench in the stands he had only just got up from and motioned for Draco to join him.

"I need to tell you something..." Draco began nervously, then proceeded to tell Blaise pretty much everything, his pale face flushed. 

Blaise's jaw dropped, and he closed it with a snap after Draco finished talking.  "Well... _well_..."

"I'm sorry," Draco mumbled. "You probably don't want to know this."

"Strangely enough, I do," Blaise replied as he ran a hand through his dark hair, silver-thumb ring glinting.  "I just, have no idea what to say."

"No," Draco agreed. "I guess you wouldn't." 

He sighed and dropped his head back, staring up at the white sky.

"So... are, you and Potter, you know, an item?" he asked finally, leaning back on his forearms and looking at the sky also.

"I think so," Draco replied uncertainly.

"You shouldn't have ran away.  I mean," Blaise gestured around them at the pitch, "it's only Quidditch."

"Treat 'em mean," Draco said with a wry smile. 

"What would you do if word got out?" Blaise asked curiously.  "The Malfoy heir dating Potter."

"Word will inevitably get around," Draco said distantly. "When it does, I'll cross the bridge."

***

*Micro-chick bounces in to answer some questions that will inevitably pop up*

Harry loves Draco already? Isn't that a bit sudden? 

_Well, no.  If you haven't already noticed this far in the fic, Harry is an emotional character, and he's prone to expressing how he feels about people in emotional ways.  When he says he loves Draco in this chapter, it doesn't necessarily mean he's IN love with him.  It's Harry's way of saying he likes Draco.  Love isn't involved just yet, its just a way to show Draco he cares._

Does this story have a plot line?

_Actually, yes it does.  We plan on exploring the darker aspects of the fanfic world soon enough, and many a plot turn will appear.  I would say that everyone dies at least once, but they don't.  I can't explain anything without giving it away, and Morgi would kill me, so yeah, zip._

Are Draco and Harry together now?

_I don't know.  You tell me.  I'm not entirely sure when they actually become 'together' as we now have 13 chapters written, and I've read them all about 3 times.  The person who finds out where gets a special mention ^_^_

Do we actually get to see a Quidditch match? There are a hell of a lot of practices

_I promise, there is a game coming soon, with some interesting insults.  And, of course, rain, mud, and Draco on a broom._

How come Draco is suddenly friends with Blaise? What about Crabbe and Goyle?

_Draco and Blaise have always been friends, it was just never mentioned in the JKR books.  Toward the end of his fifth year, Draco and Blaise started talking more, realizing they had a lot more in common.  Over the summer, various DE meetings forced them to have to spend time with each other while their parents went off and a friendship bloomed._

Any more questions? Just ask and myself or Morgi will try and answer them


	8. Dying, Die, Death, Dead

Play the Game

By Micro-chick and Morgana Malfoy

A/N: Goyle thinks Draco is dead.  Draco wants to die.  Harry believes he will die if Draco does.  Dumbledore believes that Harry will die if he leave Hogwarts.  Harry is dying to leave Hogwarts.  Draco and Harry believe in sacrifices for the greater good, but it won't work, especially when Harry wanders into the Forbidden Forest, and Dumbledore thinks he has the solution.

_Since when was love a game? Draco Malfoy does not play games.  Chess, cards, and quidditch are games.  Love doesn't have rules… right? Therefore it's not a game.  But why are both the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike no longer playing by the rules?_

Chapter Eight

Draco lay on his back, gazing up at the ceiling in the cool, ringing silence of the dormitory. He held one hand across his chest, turning his signet ring absently around his little finger. A shaft of sunlight shone across the room, catching glittering motes of dust in the air and stirring them about like tiny fairies. A long sigh escaped Draco's lips, causing the illuminated dust drifting overhead to spiral and dance in a frenzy. He took a deep breath, mind mulling over reaching for his school bag, which sat ready at the foot of his bed, and deciding against it. Draco uncrossed his ankles and re-crossed them the other way around. It really wasn't worth getting up. His first lesson of the day was an hour and a half of potions and Potter would be there. Strangely, Draco did not want to see him at all. 

"No, Goyle, I did not walk into the door.  For the fifteenth time, Draco punched me."

A mumbled reply in a deep voice impossible to hear sounded and a sigh escaped Blaise Zabini's lips as he strode back into the dorm room with Goyle not far behind.

"No, Draco did not just feel like punching me, I provoked him."

"But - but - why?" Goyle demanded, his eyes which were sunk into the puffy skin darting around the room.

"Because he provoked me!" Blaise replied heatedly, he'd been explaining this for an hour already to the simple-minded Gregory Goyle.

"But, you provoked him..." Goyle frowned.  "So, what did you do?" he asked as he turned to look at Draco's bed and Draco who was lay on it.  "YOU KILLED HIM!" He accused Blaise and rushed over to Draco.

Draco gazed stonily up at the ceiling. 

Blaise fell backwards onto his bed.  "If he's dead why are his eyes open?"

"Because he died with them open!" Goyle went into panic mode and began tugging at Draco's clothes and arms and legs madly.  "WAKE UP DRACO! YOU CAN'T BE DEAD!"

He failed to notice that the other boy was breathing.

A sneer tugged Draco's lip up as he endured the shaking. After a minute, he grew exasperated. 

"Goyle, I'm FINE," he snapped, pushing the gorilla-boy off him and sitting up, straightening his shirt and tie.

Blaise bit back the "I told you so" and watched Draco through half-closed eyes suspiciously.  They had Potions next, Draco never missed Potions.  Something was up.

Goyle sank in relief to the floor.  "Good."

"Yes, isn't it just?" Draco asked rhetorically with deep, deep sarcasm. "Great, great, great."

"And that is grating on my nerves already," Blaise said slowly as he sat up again.  "Draco, are you ok? You've not been yourself since yesterday."

"Yesterday? Are you going to die, Draco?" Goyle demanded as he stood up again and completely destroyed a green and silver pillow, as if that by showing his strength it would save Draco.

"No," Draco said flatly. "I'm not going to die, which is a shame. Yesterday, I wasn't myself. Today, I am, for the first time in weeks."

Blaise gave a vampire smile.  "Great."

Goyle blinked as he looked between the two, shrugged and left the room with the pillow.

Draco ran a hand over his face, ending in rubbing his jaw wearily. 

"Thank merlin he's gone."

"You're hiding from Potter," Blaise stated.  "I doubt Snape would like you to hide from Potions work.  By not going, he'd come to find you for an explanation."

"Maybe that would be safer than appearing in front of Potter," Draco said, knuckles white as he gripped the side of his bed.

"What's so wrong with seeing Potter?" Blaise asked with minute curiosity.

"If you don't know, you don't need to know," Draco answered loftily, standing up and hooking his bag over to him with a foot, swinging it onto his shoulder and walking out.

Blaise stayed where he was sat, playing with the ring around his thumb idily.  For as long as he had known Draco, the boy had never seemed so... distant. "Hm," he said absently as he got up and followed Draco out.

"Potions?" Ron demanded loudly, looking at his timetable for the first time as they stood outside the common room. "Potions? First thing on a Monday morning? Life sucks."

He screwed the timetable up and thrust it into his pocket, groaning and muttering under his breath.

"Ha!" Ginny exclaimed.  "You have Potions? I have Herbology with the Hufflepuffs."  

"Ha," Ron said mournfully.

Neville mumbled something along the lines of 'trade you' as he kicked the floor.  "I hate Potions.  Why do you get Herbology?" he asked Ginny.  "Not fair at all."

"I'd rather do neither," Ron grumbled.

Ginny shrugged and pulled her hair into a bobble.  "Have fun with Snape," she teased before flouncing off to join her friends as they disappeared through the entrance.

"PAH," Ron snapped, frowning and staring ahead darkly.

"Pah?" Harry asked as he came down the stairs from the dormitories, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"Potions," Ron confirmed.

"Potions?" Harry echoed, his expression dropping from the happy one it had been to a troubled look of confusion.  "Oh."

"I know, it sucks," Ron agreed, failing to realise that Harry seemed upset rather than angry like usual. 

"Can't we pretend to be sick or something? Or just plain not go?" Harry sounded desperate as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

"Like that would work," Ron scoffed. He hesitated. "You're not usually trying to avoid it like this," he noted.

"I've had enough of Snape," Harry replied, shrugging it off.  "Do we have to go?"

"Yes we do," Hermione said sharply, coming up the corridor that led from the dungeons. "Where on earth have you been?"

Ron managed to look very guilty.

"I slept late." Harry shrugged, something he seemed to be doing a lot recently.  "Come on, if we have to go, we might as well not give reason for Snape to hate us even more."

Hermione breathed heavily through her nostrils, allowing Ron and Neville to go ahead as she hung back to walk with Harry. 

"Harry, what's going on?" she asked in a low voice.

"What do you mean, 'Mione?" he asked, falling into step with the bushy brown haired girl.

"Are you having... girl trouble?" she asked carefully. "Or is it something else? You can tell me, I promise."

"Of course I'm not," Harry snapped.

"Boy trouble?" Hermione asked delicately.

"Yes," Harry replied through gritted teeth.  "Happy?"

"Oh Harry of _course I'm not __happy about it!" Hermione sighed, frowning. "If you're having problems with someone then it's a bad thing. Do you want to talk about it?"_

Harry closed his eyes, and when he opened them he was looking at the back of Ron's head.  Ron and Neville were talking animatedly about something up ahead, and as Harry eyes moved past Ron to focus on the silver statue of a silver dragon with green eyes which rested above a doorway to an unknown part of the Dungeons, he was struck with the name of the person who had been tormenting him for days now.  Weeks even.

:

"Malfoy," he said in a low tone to Hermione.  "He's just really annoying me at the moment."  His eyes refused to look away from the silver dragon which reminded him of Draco's eyes.  "I hate him so much."  He clenched his hands into fists, hoping that Hermione wouldn't notice that he did, in fact, not hate Draco.

Harry did not give Hermione very much credit in his hopes. She widened her eyes and sighed worriedly. 

"What's been happening between you two?" she asked.

"It's... hard to explain." Harry furrowed his eyebrows as they turned the corner onto the corridor outside the Potions Dungeon.  "Things are calm at the moment.  We're not fighting anymore.  At least, I don't think we are."

He looked past Ron at the people already outside the Potions Dungeon and his eyes locked with a familiar pair of grey eyes.

A million things that Draco could have said scrolled in front of his eyes. _'Oh look, it's Potter; Good morning Potty; How are you feeling? Dorky? Excellent; My, you're looking particularly ugly this morning; How's your scar?; Are you losing hair from all the worry about whether you'll see Ol' Dark Lord soon?; I miss you like hell; Meet me in Hogsmeade; I love you.'_ As it was, he stayed silent, just staring at Harry while his brain ran over what he should do or say.

Finally, Harry looked away and at the floor, suddenly looking completely washed out and depressed.  Draco didn't really love him, it had probably been another thing the Slytherin would use to torment him with, and Draco's silence had proved it for Harry. 

"You forgot your glasses," Draco said eventually, looking at the spellotaped pair Harry wore today.

Harry blinked.  "What glasses, Malfoy?" 'Oh well, gotta keep up appearances...' 

Neville stopped, just outside the classroom where everyone had filed in, save for himself, Harry and Draco.  "You coming Harry?"

Harry shook his head slowly, studying Draco's face intently.  "I'll be there in a second."

This seemed to satisfy Neville who walked into the Dungeon.

"Your glasses," Draco expanded unhelpfully.

Harry lifted his hand to the pair of glasses he was wearing then frowned slightly.  "I'm wearing my glasses."

Draco's eyes hardened. He took the glasses Dumbledore had created for Harry from his pocket and held them out, gripped gently between thumb and forefinger. With a sneering look at Harry to check that he was watching, Draco dropped the glasses. They cracked as they hit the floor and Draco put his booted foot over them, slowly and deliberately turning his foot to crush the glasses into the ground. When he stepped back all that was left were the twisted wire frames and a sparkling white powder.

Harry looked down at the glasses then up at Draco slowly, fear in his eyes.  "Another beautiful thing that must die?" he asked quietly.

"Yet another," Draco said with a cold smile. "The list is endless."

"I don't want you to die."  Then, "oh shit, I didn't just say that aloud did I?"

"I'm afraid you did," Draco said icily. "It's a shame that our agendas don't match."

Harry's face darkened.  "You can't die.  You won't die.  I... I don't know," he replied forcefully, although his words were confused.  "You're going to have to wake up one of these days and see that there are people out there who don't want you to die, and won't let you."

Draco looked horrified at what Harry was saying to him.

"Potter, you're delirious," he snapped. "What the hell are you talking about." _'We're in a corridor. Anyone could come through.'_

"Good, because I would only do this if I was delirious." He closed the remaining distance between them, leaned down and kissed Draco softly, one hand moving to tilt Draco's head up slightly.

Draco froze, his heart feeling as though Harry had reached within his chest and was crushing it in his hand. _'It's wrong, wrong, wrong...'_

"What the _fuck are you doing, Potter?" he shouted, wrenching his fist up to strike Harry away. The back of his hand met the Gryffindor's jaw and knocked him back and away. _

Draco's entire being screamed against what he had done. His blood turned to ice in his veins and he began to hate himself more than he had ever hated anyone or anything. 

"Oh god," he breathed, eyes blurring out of focus. His head dropped forwards and he stared at the undulating floor in blinking disbelief, mouthing silently. "Oh god..."

Harry stumbled back, green eyes burning furiously, hurt showing in every way that was possible, from his withdrawn face, from the way his hands were shaking and how he suddenly seemed to close up.

_"Emotion has killed you, Harry Potter.  You're not allowed to love or feel, because you will only get killed." _

Voldemort's voice, the one from his dream.  Harry turned to look at Draco stonily, suddenly hiding everything from view.  Even his eyes, which usually were open and showed everything that he was feeling, were unreadable as he held his bag strap so hard it hurt.  He turned away from Draco and walked into the Potions Dungeon, not looking back.

Draco stared after him, eyes so wide that the muscles holding them began to ache, tremble, jarring the tears from his soul and pouring molten lead down the surface of his skin. The floor gave an almighty lurch and Draco lost his footing, crashing to the ground.

The crash as Draco fell to the floor caught the attention of many of the students in the classroom.  Harry turned around and walked back out.  He dropped to his knees and checked for Draco's vitals, still wearing the mask as the rest of the class rushed out to see what had happened.

"Mr Potter,"

"Oh shit," Harry breathed, hurriedly standing up and moving away from Draco's body to stand next to Ron.

"So I arrive late to find my class in shambles and you having knocked out Draco.  I am not amused."  Snape pushed his way to the front of the crowd and next to Draco.

"Get back into class, the lot of you.  _Now_.  Mr Potter, please remain here."  

There was a rush as everyone piled back into the classroom and Harry stared at Snape, the unconscious form of Draco being the only thing which separated them.

"What have you done to Mr Malfoy?" Snape asked, peering down at Harry.

Harry stared back defiantly.  "I haven't done anything."

"What were you doing next to him then?"

"I was checking he was alive!" Harry protested, though the mask never slipped, betraying how worried and angry he was.

"A likely story," Snape drawled.

"IT'S THE TRUTH!" Harry roared.  "I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!"

"I believe that quite a few Slytherins are willing to prove you wrong." Snape pulled his wand out of a robed pocket.

"You bastard," Harry spat.  "I wouldn't touch him."

"Mr Potter!" Snape shouted, appalled.

"Stuff you," Harry said darkly, stressing each word.  "I'm leaving.  I don't give a damn what you think but I would never, _ever_ harm Draco."  And then he was gone, in the direction of the Great Hall.

Harry walked along the familiar passages in the Dungeons that twisted and crossed over in so many places that you could follow one path and end up further away than you had started.  Absently, Harry allowed his feet to take him in the direction they wished, so long as they took him away and out.  He hadn't lied when he had told Snape that he was leaving.  There was no point in him staying at Hogwarts, people would only get hurt, more hurt than they already were.  He didn't want Voldemort to come to Hogwarts and destroy everyone to find Harry, he didn't want Voldemort to use his feelings for every other student in the school against him.  Staying in Hogwarts would only seal the fates of everyone else, something Harry did not want to do.  And if leaving meant that everyone would be safe, then he would leave the only home he ever knew to save them.

He placed a hand on the Great Hall doors and pushed them open, stepping out and shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun by putting his arm up.  Someone should have come after him if they wanted him to stay, but obviously, Dumbledore agreed with them and was letting Harry go and sacrifice himself for the greater good.  His feet felt heavy as he walked away from the steps and across the freshly cut lawn.  Ron, Hermione, he wanted to tell them that he was scared and that he didn't want to go but he had to go.  Dumbledore wouldn't stop him, even though he didn't want to go.  And finally, his thoughts landed on the one person he didn't know what he wanted to say to.

"I'm sorry Draco," he said quietly as he continued to walk in the direction of the Forbidden Forest, he could get lost in there, and no one could ever find him again, just what he wanted.  "You wouldn't agree with me Sirius, I'm sorry, but I have to go."  'Draco...' Harry pushed a bush out of his way and disappeared into the thick undergrowth, branches scratching at his face and uniform.  'Let me get away... please... Draco...'

There was something following him, something big, heavy, fast.  As he turned, the something struck him in the back of the head and he crumpled forwards onto the grass in the darkness that was the Forbidden Forest.

"Don't stop loving me," he whispered, and then everything went black.

***

"Mr Potter?" Dumbledore said quietly. He folded Harry's smashed glasses, wiping some mud from the lens with an embroidered hanky. He set them carefully on the edge of his desk. "Mr Potter, are you awake yet?"

Harry shot awake and looked around blearily.  "Oh no, I'm still here," he muttered quietly as he realised that he was in Dumbledore's office.

"Oh no?" Dumbledore asked curiously. "Professor Snape did mention that you said you were leaving."

"Let me go," Harry replied quietly.

"Mr Potter, I think it would be best if you stayed here until you have finished your education."

"There's no point, Voldemort's after me and by staying here I'm only endangering everyone else."  Harry stared at the floor, unable to see Dumbledore, as his glasses were missing.

"Voldemort cannot come here," Dumbledore assured Harry. He repaired Harry's glasses with a tap of his wand and passed them to the boy.

"He already is," Harry replied as he slipped his glasses on.  "He's in my dreams."

"And you think that you can get away from that?" Dumbledore asked, sounding genuinely curious. "IS it being here that makes you dream?"

"Yes.  Because Voldemort knows that if I get close to someone he will be able to use them against me.  I can't get close to anyone," Harry replied bitterly

"Is there anyone in particular?" Dumbledore asked, peering over his glasses.

"You know everything, you tell me." Harry scowled, scuffing his trainer on the floor.

"I don't know everything," Dumbledore said with a sigh. 

"Then I won't tell you."

"All right," Dumbledore shrugged, walking up into the section of his office that was surrounded by books. He took one from the shelf and sat in an armchair to read it.

Harry sighed, "Draco Malfoy."

"I thought so," Dumbledore said, putting the book down. "Is there anything I need to know? Is he trying to hurt you?"

"I don't know." Harry sighed and stood up to walk over to the baby Fawkes that was stood on the perch.  He reached out a hand and began to stroke the magic bird.  "I don't want to hurt him."

"You two have made friends, then?" Dumbledore asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes - No - We were.  I don't know where we stand."

"You made friends and now you have fallen out," the headmaster surmised. 

He walked over to where Harry stood stroking Fawkes. 

"Mind if I use him quickly?" he asked, lifting the young bird from its perch and whispering something to him. Fawkes took off and flew through the wall in a burst of flame.

Harry shrugged, "You used him anyway, no point in asking me really."

"Not really, but it was quite important."

There was silence for a while, then a quiet knock on the door. 

"Come in," Dumbledore called, knitting his fingers together as he sat behind his desk.

Draco pushed the door open reluctantly, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. A long red cut ran over his left brow, crossed like a train track with white plaster strips. His hair was slicked back with water and an angry bruise was rising on his right cheekbone all the way down to his jaw. 

"You wanted to see me, headmaster?" he mumbled, flicking his grey eyes up only once before returning them to studying the carpet.

"Yes, I did," Albus nodded, offering a brief smile. "Please sit down." He gestured to two chairs before his desk, indicating that Harry should sit too. 

Draco nodded and walked over to the chair to the left, pulling it right up against the wall, as far away as possible from the two other people in the room.

Harry all but fell into his seat with a small groan as he refused to look at Draco and stared at Dumbledore

Seeing Harry and Draco's expressions, Dumbledore considered not asking what he had brought them here to ask, but he steeled himself. This was clearly important.

"What happened, boys?" he asked, looking intently at them both. "You will both speak eventually, so you may as well start now instead of sitting in silence."

Harry shrugged, picking at the fabric on his pants with a grim expression.  "Ask him, he's the one who wants to die."

"And he's the one who won't let me," Draco said in a hoarse voice, rubbing his fingers over a cut on his knuckle.

Dumbledore looked enquiringly at the two boys. "Won't let you?"

"He told me that I have to stop destroying beautiful things," Draco croaked, tipping his head back.

"Beautiful things are all we have." Harry looked up at Dumbledore.

"But you have to make sacrifices," Draco said to the ceiling. 

"I seem to have missed out a lot, here," the headmaster said sincerely, looking slightly puzzled.

"Then I'm making a sacrifice to save something beautiful," Harry ground out.  "I'm sacrificing myself by leaving so you won't get hurt."

"But I'm willing," Draco protested flatly. "I'm sacrificing you and me for everyone else." 

He stood up and walked to the back of the office. 

"If you die then I die, and if I die then Voldemort wins." Harry crossed his arms over his chest.

"Why do you die?" Draco asked. 

Harry shrugged.  "If you don't know then I won't tell you."

"But that's not fair!" Draco shouted, throwing his arms wide. 

"Neither is killing beautiful things."

"Fuck off!" Draco snapped. "Would you shut up about that? It doesn't work. So you'll only kill ugly things? What if I smashed my face? Would you let me die then? I'm doing this for you but you don't understand!"

Professor Dumbledore tried to look like he had not heard. Slowly, he tried to piece together what had been going on. Evidently, a lot more than he expected.

"Everything starts off beautiful!" Harry shouted back at Draco, still not looking.  "Everyone deserves a second chance.  Even you.  Even Voldemort.  Everyone."

"So what about you?" Draco asked quietly. "Why won't you give yourself a second chance?"

"What?" Harry turned around slowly to look at Draco, "what do you mean?"

"You gave up on yourself a long time ago, I think," Draco mused, looking out of a window. "You decided that you'd never have your parents, you'd never find anyone who really loved you and if you did you'd have to betray them or they'd betray you - either by dying or lying. You decided that all that you had left was to win this fight and hoped that that would make everything okay. After you win, you'll get your parents and Black back and people will love you unconditionally and you'll be able to love them. In your intense belief of this, you've pushed everyone away."

He paused, turning to look at Harry. 

"Except for me."

"You're wrong.  My parents, Sirius, they'll never come back.  They're gone.  Everyone I've ever loved has died."  Harry closed his eyes, "Which is why you can't die.  I don't want someone else to die because of me."  Harry stood up and walked over to Fawkes again who had settled on the perch.  He turned to look at Dumbledore.  "Now you know why I have to leave."

"You're not an affliction, Harry," Draco whispered, but he didn't think Harry would hear him.

"Harry, if you are serious about leaving, I'll have to ask you to return to your aunt's house," Dumbledore said heavily. "It's the only place other than here where you'll be safe. Would you like us to get you there?"

"I'll make my own way on the Knight Bus from Hogsmeade," Harry said quietly as he turned from Dumbledore, fixed his eyes on the ground and began his walk to the door.

"You know that by leaving you're just proving me right," Draco called, his voice filled with pain. "You're leaving because you're worried that I'll die on you because you tried to love me. You're pushing me away and you're not giving yourself a chance."

"You pushed me away first, Harry replied as he stepped out of the door.  "You punched me and pushed me away."  He shut the door behind him, walked down the winding staircase and collapsed against the wall at the bottom, forehead relieved by the coldness that was the stone wall.

Draco shook his head and closed his eyes, their first ever day at Hogwarts playing over in his mind.

Dumbledore rose to his feet and left the room briskly, running down the moving staircase to where Harry was slumped.

"If we give you your own quarters, excuse you from lessons, have the house elves bring you food so you don't have to see anyone, will you stay?" Dumbledore asked, on the verge of pleading.

"You only had to offer me the room," Harry replied as he turned around.  "But I agree to the food as well."

"And the missing of lessons, presumably," Dumbledore said, smiling in relief. "Let's go and see about a set of rooms."


	9. The Quidditch Match

Play the Game

By Micro-chick and Morgana Malfoy

A/N: Harry meets an old friend, Draco practically self-harms, Blaise offers some good advice, Cien gets worried, and Slytherin finally play Gryffindor at Quidditch.  Hermione intrudes, Ginny gets shocked, Blaise argues, and Draco gets a tour of Harry's new room.

_Since when was love a game? Draco Malfoy does not play games.  Chess, cards, and quidditch are games.  Love doesn't have rules… right? Therefore it's not a game.  But why are both the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike no longer playing by the rules?_

Chapter Nine

Draco waited for a suitable amount of time, picking at the plaster strips on his forehead. When he could take it no longer, he stood up and left the office, walking right past where Harry had been minutes before. Seeing no Dumbledore, he made his way back to the Slytherin common rooms sunk in utter melancholy. It had been all well and good when he had been thinking it through - get Harry to hate him so that neither hurt the other. Only now, Harry was leaving and Draco was certain it was his fault. 

_'How could he hate me that much?'_

Draco folded his arms across his chest as he entered the dungeons. He felt as though his chest had been ripped open and his heart torn out. Potter had it, and he was leaving with it to some place Draco had never heard of or been to. Who knew if he was ever coming back? 

_'You got what you wanted,' a bitter little voice told him. Draco kicked the door open, muttering the password. He crossed the common room, knocking tables over without even looking and storming into the dormitories. He slammed the door hard behind him._

"Wonder what the headmaster told him?" Pansy said, raising her eyebrows.

Blaise, sat watching Pansy and Mullicent play Exploding Snap, shook his head slowly.  "No idea, but I bet it's something bad."

"Go and ask him," Pansy urged. "You're his friend."

Mullicent grunted her approval. Blaise looked up at the stairs to the dormitories.  "He looked pretty peeved."

"So?" Pansy demanded, looking gormless. 

"Blaise's scared!" Mullicent accused as she put a card down, not noticing that it would win her the game.

"I am not!" Blaise replied hotly.

"Yeah you are," Pansy hissed. "Think he's gonna hit you and beat you up again?"

"I beat him up as much as he beat me up." Blaise scowled, running a tongue over his lip.  "You go see him then."

Crabbe and Goyle blundered over and Blaise decided that facing an angry Draco Malfoy would be a lot better than putting up with Crabbe and Goyle.  "Fine.  Mullicent, say snap for merlins sake."

As he walked away, he heard the satisfying sound of the cards exploding on Pansy, Mullicent, Crabbe and Goyle.  Maybe things weren't so bad anyway.  He pushed open the door and stepped into the Boys Dormitories, fully unprepared for what he saw.

Draco sat on the floor, ripping the plasters and the stitches they concealed from the cut on his forehead, flicking them off his fingers and rubbing the bright beads of blood from his head exasperatedly. His hair was drying slowly and falling out of place to hang either side of his eyes. 

"Oh, it's you," he said, looking up at Blaise as he tugged the last plaster out, ripping some hair from his eyebrow. 

"Shit Draco!" Blaise rushed forward and grabbed hold of Draco by the shoulders, pulling him upwards and glaring at him.  "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Taking the stitches out," Draco said blankly, looking at Blaise as though he was insane. "What does it look like?"

"Why are you taking the stitches out?" Blaise asked, staring at Draco intently.  "You know as well as I do that magical stitches disappear once they've served their purpose."

"They haven't served them yet, and they're annoying me," Draco said, licking his fingers and rubbing the blood off them. 

"The cut will get worse and infected." Blaise pushed Draco away as if he plain didn't care and walked over his trunk to begin looking through it.

"Yeah, I know," Draco shrugged. "Does it really matter? I'll get a cool scar if I let it get infected and take ages to heal."

"You already have a scar."  Blaise pulled an old battered copy of a Defence against the Dark Arts book out of his trunk, not noticing his Arithmancy book fall off the top of the trunk.  "Well done, go and get another."

"I have plenty, what's the harm in having more?" Draco asked rhetorically, standing up. "I don't particularly like you right now. You're different, offensive. I have better places to be."

"You're awkward and blunt, and you won't tell me anything anyway despite the fact I'm the only person who will listen and understand," Blaise summarised as he sat on his bed and watched Draco.

"I'm offensive?" Blaise smirked.  "I don't get offensive.  I _do listen.  Just because sometimes I tell you something you don't want to listen to doesn't mean I'm not listening and paying attention properly." Blaise tapped on the cover of the book on his lap with slightly tanned fingers.  "What's wrong, Draco?" he asked finally._

"Potter's leaving," Draco sighed. He dropped his head back against the foot of Blaise's bed and drew his knees up. 

Blaise continued to tap out the latest Weird Sisters' song as he thought over what Draco had said.  "Why?"

"I don't know, because he doesn't want me to die," Draco said. "It doesn't make much sense." He wiped a trickle of blood from his eyelid.

"I'll probably sound like Goyle now, but... you're going to die?"

"News to me too," Draco grunted.

Blaise shook his head to get a piece of hair out of his eyes.  "So Potter's leaving and you're going to let him? I thought you were an item?"

Draco looked sharply at Blaise. "How do you mean? I should just run out there and grab him and say, no Potter! I love you?"

Blaise snickered.  "Don't ask me, you're the one in love."

"And you've never been in love?" Draco snapped. He hesitated uncertainly. "You think I should do that?"

Blaise shrugged.  "I don't know what love is."  He began to flip through the book on his lap.  "Do what you want to do.  I say sod Slytherin Pride and do what _you want to do."_

"That's the first time you've said that," Draco noted. He stood up and licked his finger, rubbing it over his cut forehead. "I'll be right back." He started to run out, but slowed to a brisk walk.

                                                              ***

Draco couldn't understand it. He stood at the opening of the path where he and Blaise had fought at Christmas. There was no one anywhere near. No Harry, no Knight Bus, no train, no Dumbledore, no Weasel and Mudblood. Could Potter have gone all that quickly? Draco tugged his shirt sleeve out from under his jersey and pressed his cuff to the incessantly bleeding cut on his head. He hung his head in total dejection. 

"Bugger," he murmured.

There was the sound of footfalls as Harry Potter walked into the station at Hogsmeade.  He stood two feet away from Draco, folding his arms across his chest.  "Why are you here?" he asked finally, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"I was coming to beg you not to leave," Draco said honestly.

"Why?"

"Because I love you," Draco answered turning around. 

Harry smiled slightly, tilting his head to the side.  "I'm not leaving."

"I thought you were..."

"I changed my mind with some bargaining from Dumbledore."  Harry hesitated, walk forward or stay put? "I'm living out my teenage years at Hogwarts in my own room."

"Lucky you," Draco smiled. "I'm so fucking glad you're not leaving," he confessed. "You know earlier... It was... I'm sorry."

Harry closed the remaining gap between them and wrapped his arms around Draco's waist, burying his head into the other boy's neck.  "Me too."

A shiver ran down Draco's spine. "I was trying to make you hate me so you wouldn't care if I died," he told Harry. It sounded so stupid once he said it out loud.

"I'd never hate you," Harry replied, content in the fact he was with Draco and nothing else seemed to matter.  "No matter what you did... do... I wouldn't ever stop loving you."

"And you don't want me to stop loving you," Draco said, finally piecing together something Harry had said in the hospital wing.

"I know," Harry replied as he closed his eyes.

"And I guess I won't," Draco conceded. "You know, by trying to leave, you did prove me right."

"I did?" Harry asked.  "I never left though.  I came back."

"Only proving..." Draco tried to think of something. "That you can't bear to be without me."

"That's obvious," Harry murmured as he nuzzled Draco's neck.  "And by following me, you proved that you can't live without me."

"You knew that," Draco said, slightly scornfully. "Blaise told me I should come after you."

"Then you can tell Blaise thanks from me," Harry replied equally.

"I might," Draco shrugged. "I don't like letting him think he's done something right."

"Doesn't he ever get mad then?" Harry asked. "Because he always thinks he's doing wrong?"

"Blaise was already mad, and what I think doesn't affect him in the slightest," Draco grinned.

"It affects me.  What do you think about me then?" Harry asked curiously.

"What about you?" Draco replied.

Harry shrugged.  "In general."

"I think you're great, if a bit prissy and melodramatic," Draco said critically.

"I'm not melodramatic.  You try being me for a day."  

"No thanks, and yes you are."

Harry shrugged again.  "Do we _have to have this conversation? I'll go melodramatic on you again."_

"You'll swoon then you'll flounce off," Draco predicted.

"Now or if we have the conversation?" Harry opened his eyes again and moved to look Draco in the eye, slightly suspiciously.  "And what do you mean swoon?"

"Probably either situation, and by swoon I mean this." He put the back of his hand to his bleeding forehead and rolled his eyes back into his head, falling backwards.

Harry paused in what he was saying as he noticed the blood and put a hand to the cut on Draco's head, the other supporting him.  "You pulled out the stitches? Why?"

"Because they were annoying," Draco said, putting his red-stained cuff over his head again.

Harry's mouth turned into a small 'o' of understanding.  "You are going to be ok, though?"

"As OK as usual," Draco replied evasively.

Harry rolled his eyes and cupped Draco's cheek, stroking it idly with his thumb.  "So long as you're ok with it and I get to say 'I told you so' later when you don't go to the Hospital Wing and it gets really bad."

"You can say whatever you like," Draco smiled. "I won't listen."

"You never do," Harry smiled back.

"Too busy looking at your face," he smiled, gazing into Harry's bottle-green eyes. 

Harry laughed softly, still stroking Draco's cheek.  "I'm not complaining."

"Nor am I," Draco grinned.

"I love you," Harry breathed as he leaned in to Draco, closing his eyes slightly.

"I love you too," Draco said, dodging his head to deliberately miss Harry's lips and hug him, resting his chin on the other boy's shoulder.

"You're mean," Harry muttered as he relaxed into the embrace.

"I know, I'm a genuine bastard," Draco admitted. "A downright piece of shit." He sighed, pressing the flats of his hands against Harry's shoulder blades.

Harry sighed slightly.  "If you're a bastard, then I'm worse.  So what am I?"

"You're a Gryffindor," Draco said sincerely.

"You like to state the obvious," Harry realised.  "And I don't think I belong to Gryffindor anymore."

"You belong to me."

Harry smiled warmly, and rested his head against Draco's.  "I know."

"Damn well should. I need to get you a name label," Draco said. "Or I could burn my name onto the sole of your foot."

"No chance in hell.  Anyway, what are we going to do back at the school? Everyone's going to expect us to hate each other, and I'm not sure I can hate you."

"I'll punch you if you want," Draco grinned. "It'd be funny."

"I wouldn't talk to you for weeks." Harry's face darkened slightly and he rubbed his chin with a balled fist.  "You've already punched me anyway."

"I know," Draco sighed. "I wasn't thinking."

"You still did it."  Harry dropped his fist to Draco's shoulder and pushed the other boy back slightly, to look him in the eye.  "You should have known that I couldn't hate you anymore."

"It was worth a try," Draco mumbled defensively, folding his arms and scowling at the floor.

"I guess."  Harry looked over Draco's shoulder up to the school.  "You punch hard," he admitted absently.

"Not as hard as Blaise," Draco said modestly. "He doesn't look it, but he's built like a brick shithouse. He's had reason to hit me on a couple of occasions." Draco looked up, squinting slightly. "I get hysterical sometimes. It's the best way to shut me up." He raised a hand and pointed down the path. "Down there, on Christmas Day, he hit me a few times because... Because I said you hated me." Subconsciously, Draco rubbed the cobweb scar on his jawbone. "You've got me hurt a lot," he said accusingly. "Indirectly, to be fair, but still."

"I'm sorry," Harry apologised, pulling Draco back against him and wrapping his arms around the other boy's waist.  "For whatever I've done to hurt you over the years, everything.  Forgive me?" he asked weakly.

"Only if you forgive me," Draco bargained, a demonic smile plastered across his face. "You know, I think I'm getting cramp in my cheeks. I haven't smiled this much in... ever."

"I'm sure a lot of girls would pass out if they saw your smile," Harry grinned.  "It's a lot sexier than your frown." He laughed slightly, fingers playing with the fabric of Draco's cloak.  "And yes, I forgive you."

Draco blinked. "Sexy? Pass out? Hell, anything's worth a try." He looked down at Harry's fingers. "What are you doing, Potter?" he asked.

Harry shrugged for what was probably the twentieth time today.  "It's a nice cloak.  It's a comfort thing," he admitted, a pale red flushing his cheeks.  "If I'm nervous I like to play with material." He dropped his gaze to the floor.

"Why are you nervous, Potter?" Draco asked, eyelids lowered seductively.

"Because I'm here with you," Harry said quietly.  "And when I'm near you I always seem to make a fool out of myself."

"Usually with my help," Draco said fairly. "Do I scare you?"

"I scare myself.  Because I always remind myself that I have to go into this war."  Harry studied his own battered trainers, and Draco's expensive boots while he looked at the floor, fighting down the slight blush.

"Do you ever think about anything else?" Draco frowned, lifting one of Harry's hands and examining it absently.

Harry hesitated for a second, if that.  "You."

"Me and war?" Draco said, grinning slightly. "My, Potter's a welter of emotions."

Harry smirked slightly, "Not just you of course, Ron, Hermione, Cho, Ginny."

"Well, now I feel unloved," Draco pouted. "Way to go."

He did a double take. "Cho? As in Chang?"

"Yeah..." Harry looked slightly uncomfortable on the subject.  "I don't know where I stand with her, and it annoys me."

"Hmm," Draco pondered. "As I understand it, she wanted you to give her something you couldn't." His eyes glittered. "Did she really throw a cup of tea in your face?" he asked eagerly.

"I'd rather not talk about it." Harry scrunched his nose up cutely, then looked back up at Draco.  "Did you ever actually go out with Pansy Parkinson?"

"Yes," Draco confessed. "I did."

"What drugs were you on?" Harry asked, his green eyes laughing.

"You don't want to know," Draco said flatly. "Or rather, I don't want any of the authorities to know. I might get banged up if they found out."

"Did you date anyone else?" Harry asked curiously, realising he hardly knew anything about Draco.

"Yes," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"Who?"

"Oh..." Draco closed his eyes, counting on his fingers and muttering to himself. "There was Annie, then Morgana once, but that was out of convenience, Chang, Daria, Sascha, Terianne, Vicky, Eve, Sam, Pookie, Tasha, Padma, Pansy, obviously, Robyn, Jennifer... and a few whose names I never learnt." Draco opened his eyes again, closing his hands.

"And here I was feeling special." Harry pouted.  "Most of the girls think you're exclusive, and it turns out you've dated most of them anyway."

"Ah, but it took them ages. I am exclusive where the rest of them are concerned," he corrected loftily. 

Harry coughed something suspiciously like "man-whore" and smiled innocently at Draco.  "You dated Cho?" he asked suddenly.  "When?"

"Third year," Draco answered promptly. "Rather volatile girl."

"Before Cedric then," Harry stated as he craned his neck back to look at the sky.  "So many guys would kill to date the people you have."

"I know," Draco said smugly. "And all the rest of the girls the guys would kill for would kill for me."

"You think very highly of yourself," Harry pointed out.  "Not everyone fancies you.  I know for a fact Ginny doesn't, or Hermione."

"They're lesbians, aren't they?" Draco asked genuinely.

"No," Harry choked out, looking incredulous.  "Ginny's dated most of the Gryffindor boys, and Hermione fancies Ron."

"Shit I shouldn't of told you that."

"Merlin!" Draco exclaimed. "She SHOULD be a lesbian, if he's the best she can get." He glanced at his watch. "Bugger, I've been gone more than an hour. I should get back."

Putting a hand on Harry's shoulder, he rose up to kiss his cheek. "Don't come straight after me. Take a different path if you can."

With that, he vanished down the overgrown path.

Harry scowled, the place where Draco's lips had been on his cheek now ice cold.  "He _always_ has somewhere else to go," he moaned, turning the opposite way from Draco and deciding to go for a short walk around Hogsmeade before heading back to the school.

Harry wandered aimlessly along the streets of Hogsmeade, with nowhere in particular on his mind.  He passed the chatter and laughter from the three broomsticks, and the tinkle of bells as people walked in and out of the shops, hardly noticing the sixteen year old boy with his head down and shoulders hunched, a scar in the shape of a lightning-bolt on his forehead.

Harry sighed, his thoughts jumbled and pushing each other for dominance, trying to be the thing he should sort out first to get the rest in order.  Suddenly, someone knocked his elbow in their passing and jarred him out of his thoughts.  "Hey watch i... Moody?"

"Good morning, Potter," Moody said gruffly, blinking his normal eye and giving the strange impression of constant winking. "Didn't expect to see you here. How are you keeping?"

"Clouded," Harry admitted.  Seeing Moody was beginning to bring back the memories of Sirius plunging into the curtain away from him, never to return.  "What are you doing down here?"

Alastor looked slightly embarrassed. He shifted, his wooden leg clunking over the cobbles. "Shopping, actually," he grunted.

"It's a bit late for Christmas shopping."  Harry frowned slightly, wondering what Moody could possibly be shopping for.

"I had other things on my mind at the time," Moody muttered, clearly trying to avoid the subject. "How's Quidditch?" he asked loudly, straightening up.

"We're playing Slytherin today," Harry replied as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Ah, beat the bastards, boy!" Moody grinned, showing a large number of gaps in his teeth.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly.  "Will do."

"Mm," Moody grunted. "Malfoy boy still playing?"

"Yes.  Still not beat me yet," Harry smiled, unable to hide the slight bit of pride in his voice.

"Good," Moody said, clapping Harry on the back, hard. "You don't let that record break. You'd better get back."

Without so much as a goodbye, Moody dodged into a shop and was lost in the milling crowds.

Harry opened his mouth to shout something to Moody, but realised the man was long gone.  He turned to face the way back to the school and checked the watch around his wrist off Draco.  'Maybe I should be getting back. It's ten minutes till the game.'

With that, he was gone.

***

Draco honestly began to believe that he would throw up all over the place the moment he stepped out on the field, if he even got that far. 

He sat with his elbows rested on his knees and his hands knotted in his hair, supporting his head as he stared down at the tiled changing room floor. 

'What do I do? How do I play?' The thing was, Draco wanted to beat Harry even more now. The young Malfoy had never been the generous type, and he detested losing to those he cared about more than those he hated or was indifferent about. His boots were shiny, his shin-pads clean, his pale cords and green tunic freshly washed and robes pressed. The broom that lay on the floor before him was the Nimbus 2003, latest version, but still he had little pride in what he was going outside to do.

'It's just a game,' he told himself sharply. 'Pull yourself together.'

"Draaaaco." The voice was painfully familiar. "Draco, we need you to come out and shake hands with your boyfriend then catch the little gold ball with the wings," Zack trilled. 

"And I need you to catch your balls in a meat grinder," Draco muttered.

"What was that?" Zack asked in a singsong voice. 

"Nothing at all," Draco smiled flatly. He looked up. "Cien."

Cien glanced over at Draco as she switched her broom to her other hand.  "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," Draco said slowly, rising to his feet and picking up his broom. "Zack, piss off."

The gossiping boy gave Draco an 'Ooh get you' look and flounced out.

Cien fidgeted and pulled her hair out of its bobble.  "Have you noticed anything different about Blaise?" she asked finally.

"Not exactly," Draco said, considering it. "Except for when he told me to go after..." He caught himself. "He seems moodier."

Cien looked thoughtful.  "He's distant.  I was just worrying if something had happened between the two of you, he acts like he's being pushed out or something."  She re-tied her hair and turned to leave again, "and with you disappearing all the time like you are, well... you know.  I assumed."

"Lots of people do," Draco said coldly, walking out onto the bright pitch.

The Gryffindor team was already lined up on the pitch as Draco walked out to join his own team. He quickly counted the players and his heart skittered. Someone was missing from the Gryffindor team, and he knew it was Harry. Where on earth could he be? 

Draco joined his line up in the middle, Zack on his left and a space which Cien quickly filled on his right. He faced an empty space where the Gryffindor captain wasn't. Draco looked about discreetly, but could not see Potter anywhere.

As Harry finished lacing his boots up he heard the roar of the crowd announcing that the Slytherin Captain had arrived on the pitch.  The pieces had all moved into position, and all that was needed was the player.  Harry stood in the doorway exiting from the Gryffindor Changing Rooms, his Firebolt clasped firmly in his hands as he stared at the sky.  There was a crash and water began to pour downwards, drenching everyone in sight as multicoloured umbrellas appeared in the stands.

So many things had changed since the end of last year, that hardly anyone could predict the outcome of this game.  But then again, who knew what Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter would do when their love for Quidditch and each other clashed? Not themselves, that was for sure.  A grin appeared on Harry's face as he fell into place and shook hands with Draco perhaps a little longer than was customary.  Emerald met silver, light met dark, Slytherin met Gryffindor, and lover met lover.  Harry dropped his hand to his side.  'Let the games begin.'  

Draco arched an eyebrow and nodded to Harry, swinging his leg over his broom and scraping his already sodden hair back from his forehead. Madam Hooch's whistle pierced the air and he kicked off, rising above the game and casting a spell inside the sleeve of his robe so that he would be able to sense the Snitch without seeing it. Slipping his wand back into his inside pocket, Draco looked around doubtfully, blinking as heavy raindrops slapped into his eyes. He'd never be able to see the Snitch properly in all this anyway. 

_"Aaaaand the game is off! Slytherin have possession of the quaffle in the form of third year Isaac Trent, who looks up and passes to Mashuga, who passes to Randall, who passes back to Mashuga, who shoots..."_

Harry drained the commentary out and hovered above the game, using his sleeve to dry his eyes from the furious onslaught of rain.  He spotted Hermione and Ginny in the crowd as he flew over, and managed to wave before he swerved to dodge an oncoming bludger.

Hermione pointed excitedly at Harry, willing him to remember the Impervius Charm she had taught him long ago. Draco flew close past their stand and nodded politely to the two girls, surprising Hermione greatly.

Ginny dug her nails into the bench she was sat on, scarf tail ends flapping madly in the wind.  "Was - that - Malfoy?" she managed to shout above the noise of the wind, rain and crowd as Slytherin scored the first goal of the match.

"Yes," Hermione shouted back. "Is that a problem?" Since Harry had spoken of Draco, she felt somehow kindly disposed toward him.

"But - he's - Malfoy!" Ginny ground out before she jumped into the air and cheered as Gryffindor leveled the play.

Harry's eyes darted from side to side, ignoring the rain and Draco as he searched around furiously for the golden snitch.  Harry's attention wandered and he thought back to the meeting in Dumbledore's office, how he had desperately wanted to leave, how much Dumbledore had offered him just so he would stay at Hogwarts when all he had to do was get Draco to ask.  Harry, though unconsciously, knew that he would do whatever Draco asked had the time ever arose.

_"And Harry Potter is nearly unseated by a bludger! Get your mind on the game, Potter! You're Gryffindors biggest hope and day-dreaming won't get you any - yes Professor! I know there's a game! I'm just helping Potter - No, I would not like a detention with F-- and SLYTHERIN SCORE! 40-10!"_

'40-10?' Harry frowned.  He needed to pay attention, and that snitch needed to be caught, and fast.

Draco whooped and slapped Randall on the back in a strangely generous gesture before returning to circling over the game. He ducked a Bludger absently rearranging his parting and combing his fingers through his hair so it didn't frizz. 

"Malfoy's still a person!" Hermione bellowed over the wind. "He's not that bad!"

Draco, flying near her, could hardly fail to hear with his Snitch-search senses. 'I'm honoured,' he thought dryly to himself. 'I'm still human.'

Harry's head snapped around as he saw something gold flittering near the floor out of the corner of his eye.  He grabbed tighter hold of the handle on his broom and pointed it in a steep-dive toward the ground, plummeting so fast he was almost a blur.  Ron started yelling at the top of his voice and managed to block a shot; throwing the quaffle to the only Gryffindor player he could see without caring.

Harry reached his hand out, grasping for the snitch, fingers brushing the wings when suddenly it buzzed and flew off.  Harry's head shot around to face the direction it had gone and in a split second he was after it again, dodging Gryffindors and Slytherins alike.

_"And Gryffindor score while everyone is watching Potter! Come on Potter you can catch the snitch! And just where is your rival?"_

Draco was actually moving so fast that his ears were popping loudly. He clenched his jaw as he hurtled towards the snitch with his fingers outstretched. He gripped his left hand around the broom, rising up to swing both legs over to one side and kick a Beater away with both feet, then a Bludger with his right. As he belted towards the shining gold speck, blinking rain out of his streaming eyes, Draco saw Potter shooting up the outside. Lifting his legs from the broom again, Draco kicked out hard at him and reached forward for the Snitch. A Bludger whacked into the elbow of the arm that held onto his broom and he cried out, falling forwards. The tiny golden ball smacked against his forehead as he tumbled downwards until he managed to catch onto the end of his broom. 

"Draco!" Harry couldn't stop the cry as Draco began to fall and let go of his broom with both hands, one closing around the snitch and the other frantically grabbing at Draco's robes as the other boy began to plummet.  Harry's broom tipped forward and he tumbled off, falling to land in the sticky mud with a squelch, Draco landing on top of him, successfully winding him.  Harry mouthed wordlessly, the snitch wings beating furiously against his palm as dots blinked in front of his eyes and he pushed Draco off him, allowing himself to breathe again, only to be enveloped by cheering Gryffindor players.

Draco blinked mud out of his eyes, rolling sideways into a standing position in one easy, fluid motion. 

"You fucking won!" he snapped, pointing at the Snitch. "I give the fuck up." 

Draco's broom descended at a leisurely pace and he snatched it out of the air before storming off through the mud and rain.

Harry joined in the happiness for a few moments as his team began walking back to the Changing Rooms, then slipped away unnoticed, breaking into a run after Draco.

Blaise Zabini jumped up from his seat hurriedly and sprinted along the stands, chasing after Draco.

Both boys were so intent in reaching the blonde Malfoy they didn't notice the other until they stopped and shouted together, "Draco! wait!"

Blaise twirled around and glared at Harry.  "What the hell are you doing here Potter?" he demanded.  "You should be away somewhere with your poncy Gryffindork friends celebrating yet another victory."

"I'm here for the same reasons you are, Zabini," Harry replied evenly, glaring straight back.

Draco stopped stiffly, clenching his fists. 

"You can both piss off. I'm not in the mood." His elbow was throbbing and he was soaked through to the skin. Draco peeled his robe off and slung it over a hook. He reached crossways to pull the bottom of his tunic up and over his head. He threw it to the bench beside him and flexed his back, rubbing his elbow. 

"Aren't you both gone yet?" he demanded bitterly, working the knots in his shin pad-laces free and pulling them off. "Potter, you won, Blaise, I'm okay, I didn't fall far."

Blaise rolled his eyes, "I'm not blind, Draco.  I could see that.  I'm here for the simple reason you're my friend and I really couldn't be arsed staying out there with all the Gryffindors cheering."  Blaise scowled and dropped onto a bench before looking over at Harry with a piercing look.  "Why are _you here?"_

"My reasons are my own, Zabini."  Harry glanced at Draco then back at Blaise.  "What did you expect me to do? Leave Draco to fall and catch the snitch? Or perhaps to decide not to catch the snitch and let Draco fall anyway? Or no, even better, save Draco, and not give a damn about the snitch or reactions of the rest of the school."

The muscles in Draco's back and shoulders knotted as he felt rage coursing through him.

"If you're going to argue over me, try doing it where I can't hear you," he recommended icily. "Blaise, I appreciate and understand the fact that you are here. Potter, thanks for breaking my fall, though I'd have preferred it if you stopped me from falling and let me catch the Snitch. Try it next time; it might be fun."

He kicked his boots off and started unbuckling his belt, making it clear that he really was planning on changing. He was torn between the causes of the two. Who did he really want to stay? He felt conscious of his body for the first time in, well, years. He wanted to turn around and see if Potter was looking, but that would be too obvious. Draco was quite proud of his body, but as he pulled his belt out from the loops on his cords, he found himself stalling. Why hadn't they gone? He was in a bad mood. 

Harry sighed.  "Don't ask me to do something you wouldn't do."  He turned on his heels and left, not looking back once as he marched up to the Gryffindor House, not caring that he was still in his Quidditch robes, covered in muck and grime, drenched in rainwater.

Once Harry had gone Blaise folded his arms across his chest, craned his neck back and stared at the ceiling.  "So you want to know who sent the bludger?"

"I suppose so," Draco shrugged, unbuckling his arm-guards and tugging off his gloves before swapping his cords for a pair of black jeans. 

"Crabbe.  Supposedly, he mistook you for Potter.  I could hear Cien screaming at him from the stands, something about how you and Potter are complete opposites."  

"Hmm, like magnets," Draco murmured. "Ironic, as we seem to repel each other." 

He buttoned up his shirt and pulled a cloak around his shoulders, stuffing his sodden clothes into a kitbag and tucking it under his arm.

Blaise smirked.  "Opposites attract."

Draco grinned. "I know I'm pointing South just now, but Potty might be pointing North since I stripped in front of him. We'll see if we're opposite enough to attract." The blond boy laughed dirtily. "You'd better go and console Cien. She hates being wet." 

Blaise stood up with a short bow and a wink.  "Your wish is my command."  He flashed a grin at Draco before ducking his head against the onslaught of rain and walking out onto the grounds.  

Draco laughed to himself, turning his cuffs back and walking out under the perfunctory shelter under which players could gather their spirits before sprinting for the castle in the pouring rain. It was customarily used as a hideout for students who needed a cigarette. Draco was hardly surprised to see Potter standing there. He stopped and took a comb from his pocket, running it through his wet hair.

Harry, leaning against the wall, turned to look at Draco.  "I hate you."

"I know," Draco said simply, offering his comb to Harry - whose hair looked like something was living in it - and leaning back against a wooden pillar.

Harry took the comb and held it up for inspection.  "It won't make much difference," he admitted before swiftly pulling it through his hair and chucking it back to Draco.  "You wouldn't do it, so why should I?"

"Do what, comb my hair?" Draco asked. "I already have."

Harry gave Draco a side-long glance.  "You know what I'm talking about."

"There are lots of things I wouldn't do," Draco said evasively. He glanced sullenly at Harry, then back at the pouring rain. "No, you're right, I wouldn't. In case my serious tone deceived you, I was actually joking. I suppose it's hard to take jokes when you're a Gryffindork. Everything's terminal to you lot."

"We've learnt to shrug off anything a Slytherin says," Harry replied.  He took his glasses off and dried them on his shirt before putting them back on.  "Slytherin humour is different from Gryffindor humour."

"Yes, Slytherins have a sardonic humour, Gryffindors have a lack of humour. Different indeed." Draco was hardly feeling charitable at that moment in time.

"We could have a one-on-one match," Harry suggested, to try and make Draco slightly happier, anything was better than this side of him.

"You'd win," Draco said flatly.

"Not if there wasn't anything to distract us.  We've played three times against each other.  Just now, when the bludger hit you, in second year when you were too busy laughing at the bludger chasing me, and in third year when we were so close I had to resort to knocking your arm away."

"I'd say that you'd have a fair chance of winning if there was nothing but us two and a snitch," he finished.

"But I have more than a fair chance when it's just us two," Draco smirked, his eyes flickering as they followed raindrops from eye-level to the muddy ground.

"Is that a 'yes I accept' or a 'let me think'?" Harry asked as he turned to watch Draco, shoulder resting on the wall.

"What, are you being serious?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows. "You, me, a pitch and a snitch? And two brooms of course. And uniforms, unless you're feeling kinky."

Harry grinned, "Whatever floats your boat, Malfoy."

"Well, it might be a little uncomfortable, considering some of the moves us two end up performing." He winced at the thought of going commando during some of those. "Also, it'd be rather impractical considering the weather and the fact that... I'm not seriously considering naked Quidditch," he assured Harry, eyes wide. "Sorry I got pissed off. It just didn't seem all that fair. I have a much worse broom than you do."

"It's not the broom that matters but the player.  Stop looking for excuses, you lost, I won, and we're going to have a re-match."  Harry's face remained calm as he furiously batted away all the images creeping into his mind after what Draco had just said.

"We can't rematch without the whole team," Draco sighed. "It doesn't work without everyone else."

"I doubt the Gryffindors would be too happy about that, and there would be no reason to call for a re-match except the fact I want to prove that you can beat me if there were no distractions."  Harry paused to pull the fingerless seeker gloves off and stuffed them into his pocket.  "If you haven't noticed, I still need to get changed and I have a Gryffindor party to attend to, although I would rather stay here."

A dirty smirk crossed Draco's face. "I can think of other ways we could settle this. You're the one with your own room. You don't have to go through the party." Draco crossed the intervening space and lifted Harry's hands, twining his fingers with the other boy's. "You could stay with me."

Harry raised an eyebrow and grinned before leaning in to whisper in Draco's ear.  "Thought you'd never ask."

A shiver ran down Draco's spine at the breath on his neck. He gripped Harry's hand and ducked his head, running out into the rain. The puddles sloshed up their legs and splattered them with mud, rain pouring down the backs of their necks. Draco tugged Harry into a small alcove, pressing his back against the wall. He muttered a password, pulling Harry to his chest. The wall spun around and they stood in darkness.

"Where's your room?" Draco asked, flicking a lighter. Their faces were suddenly illuminated pale gold.

"West tower," Harry replied, slightly out of breath.  "Opposite the statue of Volvicio the Voracious."  He glanced around in the firelight, one arm snaking its way around Draco's waist.  "Where are we?"

"In the basement of the South Tower. You should see what we've found down here over the years."

Holding the lighter up, Draco led the way deep into a cellar supported by enormous balustrades. It was filled with dusty crates and barrels, the corners stacked with cobweb-encrusted glass bottles. 

"Creepy down here, isn't it?" Draco smiled, pulling Harry close to him. "I think..." He paused, muttering and looking about him. "This way." 

He moved closer to the left wall, peering ahead for staircases spiraling upwards.

"We?" Harry asked, relishing the closeness of Draco as they walked along a passageway even the Marauders had not found.  "Does this lead to every place in the school?" he asked curiously, glancing from side to side.

"Roughly. It's a part of the Slytherin dungeons." Draco grinned, his teeth a flash of white in the darkness. "Ever wondered why Slytherin throws legendary parties? Ferment wine for a couple of centuries and it becomes almost pure alcohol." Draco looked sharply at Harry. "Don't tell a soul that this place is here. They'd take it away from us."

"Wouldn't dream of it, this place could come in handy," Harry replied with a wicked grin.  "How come I've never been to one of these 'legendary' parties either? We'll have to see about that."  He lifted the arm from around Draco's waist and wrapped a finger around a belt loop on Draco's pants.  

"You know, you look awfully sexy with no top," he said conversationally.

"I do? Maybe we should discuss that further," Draco smirked, a hand lingering on the buttons of his shirt. "I think it's this way." 

He started up a staircase that wound upwards and upwards, holding the lighter, Draco went ahead, jogging up the stairs two at a time. He stopped as he reached a door with light slicing around the frame. Draco tested the door, pushing it slightly open.

"We're clear," he whispered. "And there's your Voracious bloke."

Slipping his lighter into his pocket, Draco walked confidently out into the corridor. He stopped at the door Harry had spoken of and waited, gazing casually up and down the corridor.

Harry followed him out into the corridor, wincing slightly at the contrast between the dark passage and the bright school.  He pulled a key out from around his neck, took the chain off and unlocked the door, stepping in.

The room was huge, with a fire burning to their left in the grate and a four poster king sized bed to their right.  The whole room was done up in red and green, making it feel as warm as any house did around Christmas.  Harry stepped into the room and kicked his shoes off, followed by taking off his robe which he threw onto the leather sofa carelessly.

The floor was mahogany wood, as were the walls, bed, cabinets and wardrobes.  A small chandelier of candles hung from the centre point in the ceiling, and a mirror suspended against the far wall facing them as they came in was in a silver and gold frame, the two metals twisting around each other.

Harry grinned and opened his arms.  "Welcome to my room."

"It's nice," Draco said, nodding. "A bit Christmassy, and the gold's tacky." He winced. "I can't help myself, can I? It's lovely." 

Draco walked around the room, poking through Harry's belongings nosily.

Harry sat down on the bed and took his glasses off before pulling his tunic over his head and replacing it with an oversized white shirt.  "It's great.  There's a bathroom over there somewhere." Harry pointed in a random direction near the fire, "But no kitchen.  I have to go down to the Great Hall like the rest of you."

"You poor sod," Draco lamented, tugging open a drawer. "Ooh, it's Potty's knicker-drawer!"

"Hey!" Harry yelled, jumping off the bed and skidding across the wooden floor in his woolly socks to push Draco away.  "No touchy the drawer.  My drawer."

Draco blinked, and then roared with laughter. 

"You're potty, Potty," he grinned, ruffling Harry's hair and straightening his shirt. "Absolutely Potty."

Harry grinned, as he went slightly red.  He slipped his arms around Draco's waist and looked down at him, amused.  "I used to hate the nickname Potty you know," he mused.

"I know, and you probably still do, but then you let me anyway," Draco grinned, kissing the end of Harry's nose before ducking out of the circle of his embrace. 

"Don't stand so close to me. You make me feel short." 

He began looking through the other things in the room, including the wardrobe - "You have some crap clothes, Potty," Harry's schoolbooks - "Bloody hell, you're shit at potions," and the extent of Harry's beautification products - "A brush? Is that all? A brush?"

Satisfied, Draco slumped onto the bed, stretching out on his back.

"You are short," Harry would have protested, but he thought the better of it.  "Of course I have crap clothes, hardly any are mine.  Most are hand-me-downs from my cousin Dudley, and I only get bad marks in Potions because Snape hates me."

Satisfied, Harry walked over to the bed and leaned on the end, looking down at Draco.  "At least I have my own room."

Draco didn't really have anything to say to that. 

"So don't you miss ogling boys in your dorms?" he asked after an embarrassingly long five second pause. He rolled over onto his stomach and leaned on his elbows, looking up at Harry coyly.

Harry wrinkled his nose.  "Dean and Seamus scream gay, Ron is obviously going to get together with Hermione and Neville is, well, Neville."  He shrugged, the thought had never occurred to him before.

"Besides, why ogle them when I have you?"

"A fair point," Draco nodded sagely. "So, about this non-Quidditch rematch..."

"Name your terms," Harry replied, looking at Draco out of half-closed eyes.

"Poker," Draco said with an evil grin. 

"Poker," Harry stated, at a loss.  "I've never played it.  Teach me?" he asked with wide-eyed innocence.

Draco snorted. "That would defeat the object of the game," he groaned. "That way, you might stand a chance. Okay, what would you rather we did?"

"I'd rather we do a lot of things."  Harry continued to watch Draco look up at him and smirked.  "What would you rather we do?"

"I want to play poker," Draco pouted. "I suppose we could play Tiddlywinks if poker's too racy for you, although I heard that Tiddlywinks can get a little heated at times."

Harry rolled his eyes.  "Oh sod it."  He walked around the bed, pulled Draco up and put his back to the wall.  Harry grinned slyly, placing his hands on either side of Draco's head on the wall.  "I'd say my way is the best," he said, leaning forward to capture Draco's lips passionately.

Draco smiled against Harry's mouth, sliding his hands up against the boy's chest and toying with the buttons at the neck of his shirt. He pulled his lips a milimetre back, and when he spoke they grazed Harry's.

"You like me without a shirt?" he whispered, grinning.

"Naturally," Harry replied, his breath caressing Draco's lips while his hands moved down to rest on Draco's shoulders.  He closed his eyes and crushed his lips to Draco's again, deepening the kiss almost immediately.

With one hand on Harry's hip, Draco flicked the buttons of his own shirt undone and laughed softly, returning the hand to the back of Harry's neck. 

"I like you having your own room," he decided.

"Me too," Harry agreed, slipping one hand under Draco's shirt to rest on his flat stomach, tracing the muscles.

"At least no one can interrupt us."

Hermione checked the list of directions. There was the statue, so that must be the door. She could hear voices. Maybe Harry was talking to someone already. She knocked briefly before pushing the door wide. The sight that greeted her eyes was far from what she had expected. 

"Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed. "I'm so sorry!"


	10. Busted

Play the Game

By Micro-chick and Morgana Malfoy

A/N: 

_Since when was love a game? Draco Malfoy does not play games.  Chess, cards, and quidditch are games.  Love doesn't have rules… right? Therefore it's not a game.  But why are both the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike no longer playing by the rules?_

Chapter Ten

Draco felt like he was about to pass out. 'Busted.' Suddenly, it seemed incredibly funny, especially the horrified look on Harry's face. Draco roared with laughter, back sliding down the wall until he sat on the floor with his knees up to his chest. 

"I think we just got caught," he laughed, hooking the back of Harry's knee and pulling his support out. Draco folded his arms and leant them across his knees, resting his chin on them. 

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," he grinned.

Harry let out a strangled yelp as Draco pushed the back of his knees and collapsed next to the boy.  He grumbled and poked Draco in the side before pulling his legs out from underneath himself and crossing them.  "Hey 'Mione," he greeted, having the grace to look flustered. 

"Hello," Hermione squeaked, eyes wide. "If I'm interrupting, I can go..." She looked desperately at the open door behind her.

Harry, using the wall as a support, pushed himself into a standing position and walked over to Hermione.  "Ah, well, I think we need to sort something's out first, like why are you here?"

"There's a party, Harry," she reminded him, glancing between the lasciviously smirking Draco and the flushed Harry. "People are expecting you to come." She looked at the floor. Draco's shirt was totally unbuttoned and his hair messed up. The knowing smirk on his face made her feel quite weak.

"You can go if you want to," Draco murmured, resting the inside of his forearms on his knees so his hands hung together in the middle. His damp hair fell across his face as he watched Harry and Hermione unblinkingly. "I'll understand."

Harry frowned, his hands nervously playing with the fabric of his shirt.  "Can't you come?" he asked, before answering himself.  "I guess not.  Hey, 'Mione, don't tell anyone about us?" 

Harry looked at Draco sat against the wall, his open calmness making him, if it was possible, more attractive.  He smiled as he turned back to Hermione.  "Well, at least not Ron."

"Yeah, don't tell Ron. He might go off Longbum and start following one of us," Draco agreed. He dropped his head back against the wall. "Can I wait here?"

"You've never been to a Gryffindor party, they last well into the morning.  The Professors try and stop us, but they give up in the end."  Harry shared a knowing grin with Hermione before turning to look at Draco again.  "You can stay here tonight, if that's what you mean."

"I'll wait for you," Draco promised. "I need to wash all this mud off, anyway," he added, lifting the hem of his jeans up to show a muddy calf. "You party as long as you like. I'll be making use of your bathroom."

Hermione thought it was slightly scandalous for Draco to be staying in Harry's room, but then Harry was sixteen and Draco was seventeen. She couldn't be protective over him. She wouldn't think of it this way if he had a girlfriend. 

"Bye Ma... Draco," she smiled. He nodded regally to her. "Are you coming, Harry?"

"Let me get changed quickly."  Harry walked over to his wardrobe and pulled out a black silk shirt and a pair of black jeans he'd not wore yet.  "I'll see you there in a minute if you want, 'Mione.  I need a wash first."

Hermione pursed her lips, glancing at Harry and the positively smug Draco doubtfully. 

"Okay," she sighed. "I'll meet you there."

Casting only one restrained look backwards, she walked out and shut the door softly.

Splashing his face with cold water to clean off the mud Harry called out to Draco, "You sure you're going to be alright here by yourself?"

"I'll find something to do," Draco replied.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, spitting the toothpaste out and wiping his mouth on a towel before exiting the bathroom.  He sat down on the sofa and pulled on his shoes, shirt still un-buttoned.  "I'll try and come away early, but I doubt they'll let me."

"I'll miss you," Draco said, holding his arms out in mute supplication. Harry rolled his eyes and walked over to him, crouching down. Draco buttoned up Harry's shirt and organised his hair. He planted a quick kiss on the end of Harry's nose and tapped him on the shoulder.

"You'll do," he smiled reluctantly. "See you at some unearthly hour."

Harry laughed and stood up, chewing the inside of his lip.  "The House Elf normally comes around nine o'clock, so if you want anything ask him."

He picked a red sweater up off a chair and left, pulling it over his head and messing the hair up.  He walked briskly, avoiding the staircases as best he could till finally he was outside the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Well hello, Harry dear.  I haven't seen you in a while," she said cheerfully.

Harry grinned.  "I've been busy. _ Fluxweed."_

"Always is nice to-" The rest of her sentance was drowned out as she swung open and the roar of noise from the Common Room blasted out.  Taking a deep breath Harry climbed through the Portrait hole.

Back at Harry's room, Draco rose slowly to his feet. He began to re-button his shirt half-heartedly, giving up after the first two. He retrieved his wand from his kitbag and lit the fire. Flickering warmth filled the room and Draco sighed. How long would he have to wait? He'd need something to occupy his attention. 

"Now Potty's out the way..." he murmured aloud, moving over to Harry's bedside table and opening the 'knicker drawer'. Rifling calmly through Harry's underwear, Draco felt along the bottom of the drawer. 

"Interesting," he muttered, rubbing a hard leather book cover. He retrieved it, grinning broadly. "A diary? Well, well, well..." 

Flipping the cover open, he began to read.

The Gryffindor Party was in full swing by ten o'clock that night.  Harry, the guest of honour, was drifting from group to group, talking to everyone, but for some reason never straying far from the brown haired girl, Hermione Granger.

Ginny laughed, leaning in closer to hear Harry better as they danced in the middle of the room.  "Someone's spiked the punch!" she giggled, "Tastes a helluva lot better."

Harry, who had hardly drank anything nodded, grabbing Ginny's hand so they stopped dancing and collapsed into two chairs.  "Who did it?" he asked.

"Dunno.  Hehe, Lavender and Parvati have been eyeing you up all night.  Ooh I bet one of them asks you to dance."

Harry paled as they were joined by Dean Thomas.  Dean asked Ginny for a dance, more of a romantic drunk than a giggly drunk like Ginny and handed her a rose.  As the two walked off Harry closed his eyes and pushed his glasses up his nose.

Hermione weaved through the room to Harry, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. 

"Harry, I meant to ask you about... Well, you know," she slurred, wobbling and falling into a seat.

"Not now, Hermione," Harry answered, offering a hand to steady her.  "We can talk tomorrow when you're not drunk."

'And Ron's not glaring at me'

"I'm not drunk!" Hermione protested, mouth dropping open. She plonked her glass down on the table. "Come and dance with me," she insisted, heaving herself onto her feet. 

"Fine, fine," Harry replied, unsure of what Hermione might have made public if he'd said no.  "Have you danced with Ron yet?"

"Not sure," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose. "It's not important." 

She twined her fingers through Harry's, putting the other arm around his shoulders and leaning against him. 

Harry, trying not to feel uncomfortable, wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist.  "Enjoying yourself?"

Hermione nodded contentedly. She looked up at Harry out of slightly crossed eyes. 

"You're my best friend," she said happily. "And you're very pretty too." She rose up onto tiptoes and made to kiss his cheek. 

Across the room, Lavender called out, "Harry!"

Harry turned his head to look at Lavender, not noticing Hermione was leaning up to kiss him until it was too late and their lips touched.  Harry froze, his eyes widening.

'Panic, Panic, Panic, Panic, oh shit... Panic.'

Hermione sighed happily, continuing to kiss Harry drunkenly.

'Shit, she's still kissing you.  Shit.  Panic.  Draco!'  That last word brought him out of his state of temporary paralysis and he pushed Hermione away roughly.

"You're drunk," he stated, nerves and body on fire.  That kiss had felt so _wrong_, he felt violated.

Hermione pouted. "Possibly," she conceded. "But it seems like everyone else is kissing you..."

People were parted like waves around a rock as Ron came storming through the crowd. 

"What the fuck's going on?" he yelled, shoving Harry in the chest. 

"I kissed him," Hermione sighed resignedly. "I'm less than sober. I'm sorry."

She looked at the floor, gnawing on her lip and blushing. 

"The hell you are," Ron spat. "What's going on here?"

"I told you," Hermione moaned. "I kissed him. Don't blame Harry."

Ron looked doubtful. "Harry, just... Hermy... Oh hell." Ron grabbed Hermione's wrist and pulled her away into the crowd. 

Harry started shivering and took several deep breaths.  Hermione had kissed him.  Hermione.  Had.  Kissed him.  'Urgh! Why does this always happen to me?'

His shaking got slightly worse as he moved away from all the staring eyes and over to the table.  He picked up his drink, his mouth was suddenly dry, but his shaking hand caused him to spill most of it on his shirt.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and stop the fire racing around his body, invading him.

'I need to see Draco,' he thought urgently and as fast as was humanly possible, sprinted out of the Portrait hole and ran back to his room.

Draco had long since fallen asleep. He lay on the floor by the fire on his stomach, cheek pillowed on Harry's open diary and a contented little smile on his face.

Harry grasped the door handle in both hands and pushed, letting himself into the room.  His eyes darted around the room to see Draco passed out on the floor, fast asleep.  A small grin tugged at Harry's lips as he placed his jumper on the sofa and knelt down next to Draco, tapping him on the shoulder lightly.  After a few seconds, he began to get slightly scared again as he remembered what had just happened and began to shake Draco.

"Come _on Draco! Wake up Dammit!"_

"Heh?" Draco grunted, lifting his head slightly. A page of the diary was stuck to his cheek and his eyes were unfocused. 

"Draco!" Harry exclaimed breathlessly, his hands digging into Draco's shoulder.  "Hermione kissed me."

"That's nice... Isn't she a lesbian?" Draco mumbled, putting his head back down and closing his eyes. He started into a sitting position. "Hermione _kissed_ you?!"

Harry nodded, clasping his hands together and looking very, very lost.   "I'm sorry," he said, not knowing why he was sorry.

"That's alright," Draco murmured, snuggling into his folded forearms.

"But it's not!" Harry protested.  "It felt so _wrong! She's my best friend!"_

"That's nice."

"Argh!" Harry yelled, jumping up from the floor and pacing up and down.  How would he act around Hermione now? Did she like him more than was customary? Ron was going to be pissed...

"Stop pacing," Draco murmured. "The floor's noisy."

"Stop being so damn calm!" Harry shouted, bordering on hysteria.

Draco chuckled softly. "You're funny when you're hysterical," he observed.

"I'M NOT HYSTERICAL!"

Draco rolled onto his back, lifting the diary up over his head and flicking through it. 

"You say yourself that you get hysterical sometimes," he reminded Harry. "Here - 'I know I get a little overwrought sometimes. Things get to me easily...'"

Harry's face dropped as he heard Draco reading parts of his diary and dove across the floor, landing on top of Draco and reaching for the diary.  "You read my diary?!"

Draco grunted as Harry landed on him, holding the book out of reach. 

"Yeah," he squeaked, pushing Harry off him.

Harry frowned, reaching over Draco for the diary.  "You had no right."

"Well, you were the one who deserted me for the Mudblood," Draco pouted, rolling onto his side and hugging the diary to his chest.

"I did not! _She kissed __me!" Harry crawled over on his hands and knees and looked at Draco piercingly.  "How much did you read?"_

Draco turned a few pages. 

"Up to last Monday," he said, hugging the journal protectively again.

Harry scowled and climbed up off the floor, dusting his knees down.  He turned away from Draco and walked over to his bed, rooting around for some shorts and an oversized t shirt he used as sleepwear.

Draco shrugged and continued reading, the firelight warming his pale skin to gold and gilding his hair.

Harry swapped his jeans for the shorts and began unbuttoning his shirt, staring moodily across the room.  'Doesn't he even care?' he asked himself over and over again.

Draco finished the diary presently. The last line throbbed in his head. 'Doesn't he even care?' It suddenly struck the rather insensitive boy that he treated Harry like shit. Putting the diary carefully down, Draco rose to his feet and ran both hands back through his hair. He lifted the back of Harry's shirt, running a finger up his spine. 

"Promise me you won't let Muddy kiss you again?" he murmured. "And definitely not Weasel or Weaselette."

"I promise," Harry replied, sparks of electricity shooting along him from wherever Draco touched.

Draco smirked, bending slightly and hesitating before pressing his lips to the small of Harry's back. He grinned evilly and ran his tongue up Harry's spine instead of his finger.

Harry shivered and leaned back against Draco, his eyes fluttering shut.  "Draco..." he whispered quietly as the hairs on his arms prickled and stood up on end.

Draco laughed softly. He leaned his forehead against the vertebrae at the top of Harry's back, letting the baggy shirt fall down over his head.

"Harry," he replied, tracing his fingernails down Harry's sides.

Unable to stop himself, Harry reached behind him and grabbed hold of Draco's wrist, pulling the boy around and into his lap.

"I can see you," he grinned, slipping one hand under Draco's shirt and leaning forward to kiss the startled boy.

Draco licked his lips and reached up to wrap his arms around Harry's neck. Before their lips met, he whispered, "I'm sorry for being such a shit to you."

"I forgive you," Harry breathed, his lips touching Draco's tentatively, one hand tracing the lines of the muscles on Draco's stomach and the other reaching up to support the back of Draco's neck.

"I know you do, otherwise I wouldn't be here," Draco breathed. His eyes slid shut as he lost himself in their kiss.

Harry smiled against the kiss and ran his tongue along Draco's lower lip, gaining himself entrance.  'Now this, this is right.'  It never occurred to him that people could think otherwise.

Draco could taste fruit - strawberries, cherries, peaches, apples - and vodka. Vodka. Harry was probably pissed out of his skull. Draco was suddenly riled. He hated the taste of second hand alcohol and, even worse, what it implied. 

Unraveling his arms from about Harry's neck, Draco stepped back. 

"You're pissed," he accused Harry. "I can taste the Mudblood."

He wiped his mouth ostentatiously with the back of his hand.

Harry's eyes opened slowly as Draco pulled back and he shrugged his shirt off, pulling on his nightwear one.  "Don't call her that."

Draco looked sullen. He mumbled something inaudible, then cleared his throat. 

"Do I need to be jealous?" he asked in a subdued tone.

Harry blinked, and then pulled Draco down next to him on the bed.  "No, because unlike with Hermione, I like kissing you."

Harry rested his head on Draco's shoulder and picked one of Draco's hands up in his own, holding them both out and entwining the fingers.  "Hermione's my friend.  But you, Draco Malfoy, are a lot more."

"She's one of the few people who's shorter than me," Draco mumbled grudgingly. "I suppose I should be thankful for that." 

He leaned back against the pillows, slipping his arm around behind Harry's back and stroking his fingers up and down the other boy's arm.

"You know, being shorter automatically makes you cute," Harry said thoughtfully, studying the contrast between his own tanned, slightly bigger fingers and Draco's pale, manicured ones.

"I was cute anyway," Draco protested mildly. "I was taller than you in first year. Only thing is, I haven't grown since third year..."

"I'd say we were more the same size."  Harry dropped his hand and moved onto his front, looking at Draco with the smile he couldn't seem to lose when he was around the Slytherin boy.  "Then you're due for a growth spurt."

"Some people grow in other areas," Draco said loftily.

Harry raised an eyebrow with a suggestive smirk.  "I think you'll have to prove that to me one of these days."

He dropped his head onto Draco's chest and let out a small yawn.  "What time is it?"

Draco sniffed. "I meant areas such as academia and personal integrity," he said in an aloof tone, then laughed. He lifted Harry's wrist. "Two a.m."

"Two a. m?" Harry yawned, closing his eyes.  "I'm tired."

"So sleep," Draco said, closing his eyes briefly and letting out a long breath through his nose.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" Harry asked, snaking an arm around Draco's waist and moving to get comfier.

"I'm not planning on leaving," Draco smiled. 

"Good," Harry murmured, sleep washing over him.

***

Sunlight shone through the window, moving lazily across the embroidered cover of the bed and up Draco's legs, over Harry's curled up form and onto their two faces.  Draco was awake. He had hardly slept at all, but Harry had slept right through. Draco decided that it was probably time to get up and make the most of the private bathroom. 

He sidled out from beside Harry, laying the boy's head gently onto the pillows and pulling the rumpled eiderdown over him. Draco watched Harry as he unbuttoned his own shirt and hung it over the back of the sofa, followed by his belt, trousers and underwear. He walked softly into the bathroom, fiddling with the shower until he found the right temperature, then stepping under the jet of hot water. 

Harry mumbled something incoherent in his sleep and rolled over to get closer to Draco.  His eyes shot open as he realised that the other boy was gone and he blinked blearily, looking around before he noticed Draco's clothes on the sofa and heard the running water that was the shower.

He yawned, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his jaw.

Draco groped about the shelves and cabinets for the soap, finding it only to drop it. He swore, bending to retrieve it as it slithered merrily towards the plughole. 

"Oh, come here you little git," he told it, swiping at it and missing. Water was hitting the back of his head and running round into his eyes. He blinked and wiped it away. "I said come here! Can't you hear me?"

Harry swung his legs off the side of the bed, half awake and half asleep.  Slumping his shoulders and rubbing at his eyes he pushed open the door of the bathroom.  "What?" he demanded.

Draco yelped, hands leaping to cover his manhood. He flushed, looking at Harry out of huge eyes. His hair, pushed forward by the water, was plastered in spikes pointing at Harry. 

"I was.... talking to the soap," he said, blinking and blushing darker.

"Talking to the soap?" Harry asked, confused.  He wondered why Draco looked so startled then realised that he was completely butt-naked in the shower.

Draco's body was complete eye-candy. His neck was long and smooth, with little trace of an Adam's apple. Firm muscles rippled gently underneath a pale layer of satin skin as the water from the shower poured down, blurring and distorting the view slightly.

Letting his eyes wander lower, Harry noted the slender, gently tapered waist that was so trim he knew he could encircle it effortlessly with just one arm. And there were those hips, smooth and narrow, lightly curved to perfection. Beyond that were Draco's hands, followed by long and lean legs.  Harry couldn't help but stare, hand reaching behind him for the door handle, and unable to find it.

Draco felt incredibly scrutinised, and tipped his head back so he didn't have to watch Harry gaping at him. 

"I... Soap was... Going down the plughole," Draco mumbled. He gave a pathetic 'heh' of laughter and said, "You need a shower curtain or something, Potty."

Harry nodded wordlessly, finally finding the door handle and pushing backwards, stumbling out of the bathroom and shutting the door again.  He knew Draco was beautiful, but he never knew he was _that beautiful._

Distracted beyond belief, Draco retrieved the soap and continued his shower.

When he was done, he wrapped a towel around his waist and put a shaking hand on the door. He took a deep breath, making sure that the towel was secure, before assuming a confident expression. He pushed the handle down and walked into the room, combing his wet hair with his fingers and consciously tensing his stomach muscles.

Harry looked up from his bed, he was lay on his front, diary open and quill poised, ready to write.  "What's the date?" he asked calmly, trying not to stare again.

Draco paused, "Sixteenth. Can I borrow some underpants?"

Harry thought it over.  "Can't you go commando?"

Draco grinned. "I could, if you want to keep your knicker-drawer sacred."

"Then there you go, you have your answer."  Harry began to write again, the sound of the quill scratching the only noise in the room.

Draco growled and snatched his jeans from the back of the sofa, pulling them on under his towel and doing them up. He threw his towel into the bathroom and rubbed his chest to see if he'd dried off yet. He never bothered to dry his torso, preferring to wander around for a while and get used to the temperature of the room, so he did just that. 

Deciding that asking Harry's permission didn't often get him very far, Draco rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully. His hair spiked up at the back and he glanced sidelong at Harry, frowning. 

"What are you writing?" he asked, slipping his belt through the loops on his jeans and buckling it. 

"How do you define 'writing my thoughts, feelings etc in my diary'?" Harry asked, blowing on the ink to let it dry.

"Like that," Draco shrugged. He took up Harry's comb and combed his hair, shaking it up and watching Harry.  'I'm not the centre of attention. What can I do to change this?'

Harry chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully as he contemplated getting a lock for his diary, just in case.  Draco was on the verge of a tantrum, but concealed it well. How could he combat Potter's lack of attention?

"Harry," he said abruptly. 

Harry quickly wrote something down he had just thought of.  "Yes?"

"Pay attention to me," Draco ordered. "I'm feeling left out."

Harry blinked, then started laughing loudly.  "You're jealous because I'm writing instead of talking to you?"

"Frankly, yes," Draco said indignantly. "I can go now if you've got better things to do."

Harry closed his diary with a snap.  "It can wait."  He rested his chin on his hands and looked across the room at Draco.  "About this rematch?"

"Yeah, what did we decide on?" Draco asked, hooking some hair behind his ear.

Harry shrugged.  "I don't think we did."

"Hmm... What _do_ you know how to play?" he asked. "Seeing as poker appears to be out of the question."

"Eh, Quidditch?"

"Apart from Quidditch," Draco said flatly.

"Ron kept trying to teach me Chess, but I suck."  Harry frowned and picked up the diary, slotting it into the drawer and turning back to Draco.

Draco rolled his head back, stretching languidly. 

"How about..."

He walked across the room to Harry, dropping his head forward and looking up at Harry under his eyebrows. 

"I don't want a rematch," he murmured. "I'm happy to let you win."

Harry grinned, reaching up to wrap his arms around Draco's neck and pull the boy down on top of him on the bed.  "What's my prize for coming first?" he asked.

"Me," Draco grinned, holding himself up on his elbows. "And did you have to come in while I was having a shower?"

Harry had the decency to blush.  "No, but that's quite the body you have."

"I know," Draco beamed. "Are you planning on taking a shower this morning?" he asked archly.

Harry chuckled, slipping his hands into Draco's back pockets.  "Maybe."

Draco smirked. "We'll just have to see if you lose the soap too, won't we? I'm feeling distinctly singled out just now." As he spoke, his hand smoothed Harry's shirt and traveled down to rest on his lower abdomen, about as far down as it could get. 

"You're cute when you sleep," he told Harry.

Harry smiled, blowing a piece of hair out of his eyes.  "You make a nice pillow."

"Hmm," Draco murmured, half-closing his eyes. "I get to sleep on you next time."

"Deal," Harry promised shifting his weight under Draco a little to the left.

Draco overbalanced and fell down beside Harry. 

"I don't want to go," he murmured, nuzzling Harry's shoulder.

Harry pulled a hand out of Draco's pocket and lifted it up to play with Draco's hair absently.  "I don't want you to go," he replied softly, tilting his head to look at the ceiling of the room.

"I can stay tonight too," Draco said earnestly. "Fuck school."

Harry laughed.  "Would you go to lessons if I did as well?" he asked, twirling a lock of the silvery blonde hair around his finger

"Only the ones you go to," Draco said, lowering his eyes. "I don't want to be anywhere without you. In fact, I've decided that when you go and have a shower, I'm coming too."

Harry started laughing loudly, and lifted Draco's head up.  "What if I need the toilet?"

"I can settle for being in the same room," Draco smiled.

Harry placed a finger on Draco's lips.  "What do you say to going for a walk with the invisibility cloak?"

"Sure," Draco smiled. "Am I allowed to put any more clothes on?"

Harry suddenly became aware that he had refused to lend Draco any underwear and that the pants he was wearing were very thin.  Just the thought made Harry blush.  "You better had."

Draco smirked and rolled into a sitting position, hooking his shirt from the back of the sofa and pulling it on. 

"You'd better have a shower as well. I don't want to be squished against you under that cloak if you smell," he told Harry, wrinkling his nose.

Harry stuck his tongue out at Draco before jumping off the bed and grabbing a change of clothing.  He wandered over to the bathroom and slipped inside, making sure to lock the door, incase Draco tried to come in.

Draco grinned and lolled back, raiding Harry's knicker-drawer for a pair of socks and pulling them on. He laced up his boots and went through Harry's wardrobe. He failed to find anything vaguely presentable, and therefore gave up. He buckled his own cloak about his shoulders and walked over to the bathroom door. Draco leaned his back against it and slid down until he sat on the floor. 

"Harry," he called. 

There was a pause before, "Yeah?"

Draco took a deep breath. "I think I'm in love with you," he said.

"You... what?" Harry's voice floated out weakly.

Draco groaned. "Do I have to say it again?"

After a few minutes of silence the shower turned off.  There was the sound of Harry brushing his teeth, then getting changed.  "Are you leaning on the door?"

"Yes," Draco replied. 

He heaved himself to his feet and walked away to sit on the windowsill.

Harry appeared from the bathroom, and quickly sought out Draco sat on the windowsill.  He walked over to stand facing the boy and knelt down on the floor, seeing as there wasn't enough room for him to sit on the windowsill.  He picked up Draco's hands and twisted their fingers together.  "Do you really mean it?"

Draco looked out of the window fixedly. "I think I do."

Harry raised one of Draco's hands to his lips.  "I think I do too."

Draco's eyes were wide and liquid blue-grey as he looked at Harry in disbelief. 

"My god," he murmured, dropping to his knees beside Harry. "I thought I just made a total prick out of myself."

Harry shook his head.  "I'd say you just said one of the nicest things possible."

"I'm good like that," Draco grinned, confidence slightly restored. "Let's go out."

Harry pouted, not sure he wanted to go out anymore.  He stood up slowly, pulling Draco with him.  "Do we have to?"

"No," Draco said, frowning. "I thought you wanted to..."

"What _I want is to spend the rest of my time with you."  He dropped Draco's hands and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Draco's neck.  "We could always try and see how many places we can get away with snogging," he suggested._

Draco choked. "Potty, worldly though I may seem in my actions, I only feel unintimidated by such activities when I'm the one suggesting them... I thought you were... Well, a dork!"

Harry grinned into Draco's hair.  "Far from it when you get to know me."

"Sounds like fun... Oh! I know what we can do," Draco smirked. 

"Oh?"

"Truth or dare," he grinned sinisterly. "Totally up to you, of course."

"Ok then," Harry agreed, trying to figure out just what Draco was up to.  

"You first, or me?" Draco grinned, unbuckling his cloak and taking off his shoes. He put them by the door and walked to the rug in front of the fire. He re-lit the embers and sat cross-legged, waiting for Harry.

"You," Harry decided, lying down on the rug facing Draco, legs crossed at the ankle, and leaning back on his elbows.

"Truth," Draco said promptly. 

"When did you first start liking me?" Harry asked curiously, realising that he didn't even know when he had started liking Draco_ that way._

Draco pondered the question. "Hmm, towards the end of fourth year," he answered presently. "When you were doing so well in the Triwizard."

"Doing so well?" Harry snorted.  "I put everyone else before myself, and you won't believe how much help I got.  It was all rigged anyway, and Cedric died because of me."  He closed his eyes, remembering the Hufflepuff boy who would now be a seventh year had he not died.  "And truth."

"You really do blame yourself for everything, don't you?" Draco frowned. "Okay, truth." He looked at Harry then grinned. "In second year when there were all those troubles and people thought I was the heir, was it you and Weasel under polyjuice, pretending to be Crabbe and Goyle?" 

Harry smirked.  "Of course we were.  Though it didn't happen to be much use, seeing as it was Voldemort in Ginny's body anyway."

"Really? Well, well, well," Draco smirked. "Truth again."

"The duel in second year, did you go easy on me?" Harry wondered, remembering Gilderoy Lockhart with a grimace.

"Yes," Draco answered. "It was still a bit much, it seemed."

"I wouldn't have known I was a parsel tongue if you hadn't.  Dare."

"That must be quite useful. I dare you to..." Draco rose to his feet and walked over to the window. "Climb onto the roof and fly your underpants from that flag pole."

"You have to be kidding me."

"Not at all," Draco grinned. "It was my turn anyway, but you seemed so keen to jump the gun that I thought you'd be up for it."

Harry blinked.  "I asked you if you went easy on me, and I asked for a dare.  It wasn't your turn."  He looked over at the window then at the fire with a pout.  "Can't you think of something better?"

"Oh yeah, and I probably could, but I can't be bothered. If you think of something, I might consider it."

Harry looked thoughtful and climbed to his feet, walking over to Draco.  "We should have just gone on the walk."

"We should, any last requests?" Draco asked, pushing the window open.

"Hm," Harry pretended to consider and slipped his hands into his jean pockets.  "Will you give me a haircut?"

"A haircut?" Draco frowned incredulously. "Yeah, if you really want one..." 

"My hair's getting too long and I can't do anything with it," he elaborated further.  "Isn't Blaise going to be wondering where you spent the night?"

Draco looked almost pityingly at Harry. 

"I've spent the night all sorts of places during my time here, as has Blaise. We don't worry about each other until after forty eight hours."

"Lovely relationship you've got there," Harry commented sarcastically.

"It's a relationship based on mutual requirements," Draco shrugged. "We can give up on the dares and play truth while I cut your hair."

"Sure."  Harry fell back onto the floor on his knees and moved into a sitting position with his legs crossed.

Draco conjured a few things with some flicks of his wand. Harry's hair was still wet, so he combed it back and began to arrange it about his head. 

"Seeing as you won't do the dare, care for a truth instead?" he asked, starting to trim with a pair of scissors with purple handles.

"Ok then, truth me."

"Do you, as a dark-haired person, have very hairy pubes?" Draco asked directly, combing and snipping off a lock of hair critically.

"What kind of question is that?" Harry asked.  "Yes, and careful where you're pointing those scissors."

"Yes?" Draco laughed. "Ok, truth me up."

Harry shifted position, watching the fire was making him drowsy.  "Why me?"

Draco frowned. He hadn't been expecting that question. 

"Because you're the only one who's different enough from me, but still the same."

"That's a strange answer," Harry murmured, the fire creating strange patterns on the rug as it got darker outside.

Draco recalled his conversation with Blaise about north, south and ironic repulsion. He laughed. "Okay, why_ me_?"

"Are you allowed to copy questions?" Harry wondered. "Because you're different from everyone else.  You're beautifully dark and dangerous.  A fallen angel."  

Draco dropped his head and licked the side of Harry's neck. "Thank you," he whispered. "That's very beautiful."

Harry shivered.  "Do you get along well with your dad?"

"I suppose so," Draco said, rubbing his jaw. "Sometimes he's a little demanding. He's just a proud father, really. He asks some things I don't want to do or give, but who doesn't?"

Draco sighed heavily, cutting Harry's hair in silence for a while. 

"What did you think when you walked in on me in the shower?" he asked eventually.

Harry grinned into the fire.  "Exactly the same as what I think every time I see you," he admitted.  "You're beautiful."

Draco lowered his eyes demurely. "I try," he said modestly. 

"Are you a virgin?" Harry suddenly burst out.

Draco roared with laughter. "No," he said, between laughs.

Harry grinned.  "I know what my next question is."

"Are you?" Draco obligingly asked.

Harry chewed the inside of his lip distractedly.  "Yeah..."

"Aww," Draco grinned. "It's alright, doesn't last forever... Are you really?"

"Yes, and doesn't that count as two questions?" Harry asked uncomfortably, small pieces of his hair falling to the floor.

"Ask me two, then," Draco offered generously.

"Were you jealous of Hermione last night and what made you suddenly say that before, when I was in the bathroom?"

"I was jealous that somebody else got to kiss you at a party, and I've never been to one with you. I said it when you were in the bathroom because I didn't have the guts to look at you while I said it."

"I wanted to take you to the party," Harry mused.  "Have you finished yet?"

"Nearly," Draco said, snipping off a few more locks.

He thought for a moment. 

"There's a party going on in London - 29th of January. Huge party. I've been invited plus one guest. Want to come?"

"Sounds fun, and it'll be a break from school."  Harry began to fidget, his arse going numb.

"You're so immature," Draco laughed, ruffling Harry's hair and throwing the scissors onto the sofa. "You're done."

"Finally," Harry muttered, standing up and shaking his head to get rid of any little hairs that were left.  "How do I look?"

"Better," Draco said unhelpfully. "I'm hungry."

Harry checked his watch.  "Well, we have missed breakfast and lunch."

"We could go to Hogsmeade," Draco offered, checking his pockets. "I've got plenty of cash."

"We should just eat here, I need to talk to Hermione and Ron anyway."  Harry frowned, trying to think of what exactly to say to them both.

"Okay... When are they next serving food?" Draco asked, rubbing his lean tummy.

"Fifteen minutes or so."  Harry ran a hand through his slightly shorter and tamer hair.

"Hmph," Draco grunted. He grabbed Harry's collar and pulled him into a kiss.

Harry chuckled against Draco's mouth, hands on his chest for support.

"I don't think we should go down together."

"We probably shouldn't," Draco conceded. "Hey, I have one more truth for you.  Do you like it when I do this?" He bent down and kissed Harry's stomach lingeringly, tongue flicking in small circles on the smooth skin.

Harry's sharp intake of breath was the only answer he could give at the moment.

Draco laughed. "I'll go first," he said, pulling his boots on and buckling his cloak. "See you around, virgin."

Harry scowled, still slightly dazed.  "Meet me on the edge of the Forbidden Forest near the Lake in an hour?"

Draco nodded. "I'll be there."

He shut the door and walked down the corridor, feeling positively light-headed. He made his rather absent-minded way down to the Great Hall and fell into a seat beside Blaise at the Slytherin Table.

"Where were you last night?" Blaise asked as he picked up a chip and dipped it in some tomato sauce.

"With someone," Draco grinned, ripping a salad leaf in half and eating it. 

Blaise rolled his eyes and ate the chip.  "Goyle thought you were dead again and I'd hidden the body."

"Poor Goyle," Draco laughed. "You know, Potter's a virgin. He seemed surprised that I'm not."

"You're only just 17.  And like I've said many times before, he's innocent."  Blaise picked another chip up as the subject walked into the Great Hall.  He blinked, looking at the new hairstyle that was attracting a lot of attention.  "Though I'm guessing not for much longer if you have your way?" he smirked, raising an eyebrow.

Draco smirked. "I don't know about that. He's sort of cute when he's this innocent. And I haven't been a virgin since fourth year."

Blaise laughed, popping another chip into his mouth.  "You know, with Potter sporting that new look you might have competition."

"Pah," Draco scoffed. 

All the same, he peered over to see the reactions of people in the hall to Harry's haircut.

Harry nervously played with the material inside his jeans pockets as he walked over to the Gryffindor table and seated himself opposite Ron and Hermione, next to Ginny.  "Hey," he greeted weakly.

"Like the hair," Ron said, flipping Harry's shortened fringe.

"Oh yeah, it's nice," Hermione mumbled.

They looked like they were holding something in.

Ginny squeaked something inaudible.  Harry frowned and looked at Hermione and Ron sternly, "What's up?"

"Where did you go?" Ron demanded finally.

"My room," Harry blinked.

"But why did you... I don't bloody know. Something's different and wrong. What happened?"

"Hermione kissed me.  You were all pissed and I couldn't be arsed staying any longer, alright?" he asked.

Ginny shook her head next to him.  "I don't think that's what Ron means," she said quietly.

"It's not. Who cut your hair? Where did you go after the Quidditch match? Why are you all flushed?"

"I cut it myself, I went for a walk, and I just ran here."  Harry ticked them all off on his fingers.  "Now, why are you mad at me?  Why are you suddenly piling this all on me now?"

Ron floundered. "I don't know."

He looked at Ginny and Hermione for help.

Ginny grinned.  "I know why."  She looked pointedly at Ron and Hermione.  "_Someone's_ jealous."

"So?" Ron demanded, ears burning red. 

Harry laughed loudly, as did Ginny.  Parvati wandered over and placed both her hands on Harry's shoulders, lowering her mouth to his ear.  "Hi, Harry.  We like your new look."

Lavender appeared behind her, putting her lips to the other ear. 

"A lot."

Harry froze, sending a pleading look to Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

Hermione shrugged and Ron laughed at him. 

"You deserve it, mate," he said.

"I think those two sluts like it," Draco decided, returning his attention to the salad leaves he was dismembering.

Blaise smirked.  "What's with the shirt?" he asked, pointing at the place where a crest would be.

Draco held his arms out. The cuffs completely concealed his hand, and he could have fitted another person inside the shirt. It had to be one of Harry's outsize ones. 

"Shit," Draco said, frowning. "I must have picked up Potter's instead of mine."

Blaise's eyebrow's shot up.  "Just what were you doing with Potter last night?"

"We just talked for a bit, then he went to some Dork party and then we fell asleep," Draco said, skipping out some of the details. "I invited him to Alexei's party in January as my guest."

"Ok, and at which point did you take off your shirt?" Blaise asked, a small smirk on his lips.

"Several points," Draco said, frowning. "I had a shower there this morning."

"He has his own bathroom?" Blaise demanded, completely giving up on Draco telling him the truth.

"Yes, he does, git," Draco said.

"Wait," Blaise's mind reeled.  "He has his own room?"

"Yes."

"Hell you're lucky."

"Me? I get to use it occasionally. He's lucky that he has it to himself."

"Yeah, but you two get your own private room," Blaise replied enviously.  "Man I hate you both.  Where is it?"

"West Tower," Draco answered, not wanting to be too specific. "It's lovely."

"I'll bet it is."

"Bit ... festive. Green, red, silver and gold," Draco said critically.

Blaise wrinkled his nose.  "Tacky."  He rooted around in his bag and came up with a purple lolly which he stuck in his mouth.  "You staying in the dorms tonight?" he asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder and preparing to leave.

"I don't know, maybe," Draco shrugged. "I didn't want to break the Forty Eight Hour pact and force you to come and find me. I might come back, I might not. I'll see you."

Blaise nodded.  "Have fun... 'talking'."  He got up from the table and left, looking at the ground.

"We will," Draco whispered. He settled to looking across the room at Harry.

"Hermione, can I have a word?" Harry finally asked, conscious of the time and the fact Ron was glaring from Hermione's other side.  "Alone."

"Oh, alright," Hermione said, standing up.

Harry led her to just outside the Great Hall and fidgeted from one foot to the other.  "Um... about last night..."

"Yes?" Hermione asked in an embarrassed tone.

"Well, Draco isn't mad, so if you were worried about him that's OK.  And yeah, I understand that you were drunk, just, get together with Ron already?"

Hermione looked up like a rabbit in headlights, blushing. "I don't..."

Harry rolled his eyes.  "No hard feelings, ok?"

"No, don't worry. So... Did Draco stay with you?" she asked. 

Harry smiled, "Yeah."

"You like him a lot, then?" she surmised.

Harry's eyes took on a slightly vacant look.  "I don't just like him 'Mione.  I think I'm in love with him."

"In love?" Hermione asked, looking a little surprised. "Isn't it a little... hasty, to be saying that?"

Harry shrugged, moving his gaze to look slightly over Hermione's head.  "I think I've been in love with him since he first kissed me."

"When was that?" Hermione asked curiously.

Harry laughed slightly.  "Detention with Grubbly-Plank."

"Detention?" Hermione laughed ruefully. "You can be so silly. What did she have you doing?"

"Cleaning the Unicorn Paddock," Harry replied promptly.

"Oh..._ Oh_, that's nasty!" Hermione said. "Draco kissed you while you were mucking out a paddock?"

"No, that was after I'd cleaned it using magic."

"Ah, well that's only slightly better."

"Anway," Harry said loudly as people began to drift out of the Great Hall.  "I have to go now."

"Alright, Harry," Hermione said, nibbling her lip. "I'll see you tomorrow."


	11. Invitation to a party and House Elves

Play the Game

By Micro-chick and Morgana Malfoy

A/N: It's another normal day, or so it seems when Draco and Harry write notes to each other during Transfiguration, and Harry is violently sick.  The two boys visit an 'old friend' of Harry's and manage to create havoc when Ron and Hermione come for a tour of Harry's new Room.  Draco goes through last minute planning of the party with Alexei and Voldemort moves his pieces onto the chess board that is the final war.

_Since when was love a game? Draco Malfoy does not play games.  Chess, cards, and quidditch are games.  Love doesn't have rules… right? Therefore it's not a game.  But why are both the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike no longer playing by the rules?_

Chapter Eleven

"If you think about this in detail, it becomes clear that the principals of animal rights are not necessarily applicable," Professor McGonagall droned. "Is it anti-human rights to be an Animagus?" She looked about the class for their response. "No. Nobody gets hurt. Lots of complaints are made and too many students mention the animal rights issues in their NEWTs. I don't want my class doing that. There are no animal rights issues."

She turned behind her for a stack of parchment and began handing them out. "Now, to get it out of your systems before you take your tests, I think we'll write four sides of parchment on why animal rights are not an issue. You may begin now. Pages thirty six to sixty nine in your textbooks will help you, and I have some extra volumes on the issues at the back of the classroom..."

Draco pulled the page over to him and wrote his name at the top, but he had zoned out so long before that he had hardly any idea of what was going on. He sat low in his chair, one long leg stretched out on either side of his single desk. He had been in these classrooms since he was eleven, and really felt that he had outgrown them. Draco could hardly wait to move into the tests and then freedom for a while. He glanced over to Harry. The boy was bent forward over his desk, head supported by his fist and ankles crossed. His eyes were blank. 

Draco smirked slightly, tapping his wand onto his piece of parchment. Checking that McGonagall was otherwise occupied, he held his wand up and took careful aim at the page on Potter's desk before releasing the spell.

**_Hello, Potty_**, he wrote in his flowing handwriting, glancing sidelong at Harry to see if it was working.

Harry stared off into the distance through the one small window in the Transfiguration classroom.  McGonagall was talking about animal rights, one of the things Harry found the most boring on the planet.

He glanced down at the parchment he was meant to be writing on, only to see some words forming by themselves.

There was only one person in the school who called him Potty.  Harry picked his quill up and dipped it into the ink pot, writing a reply slowly.

**_Hello, Malfoy._**

Draco grinned as Harry's spidery, childish handwriting appeared under his own. 

**_Having fun?_**

**_I'm bored beyond imagining, you?_**

Harry twirled his quill through his fingers as the ink disappeared, admiring some of the finer points of the spell; they could write notes without being caught as the words disappeared after a few seconds.

**_Nice spell you've cast here, by the way_**

****

**_It comes in handy,_**Draco wrote modestly. 

**_I'm just not very interested. I'll pay a nerdy firstie to do the essay for me later. I know it anyway, and why is she making us write an essay on something we specifically do NOT need?_**

****

**_She's going mad in her old age?_**Harry smiled then ducked his head as McGonagall gave him a stern look.  **_I'll beg Hermione to let me see hers tonight, then copy most of it_**__

****

**_The Mudblood has some uses,_**Draco wrote, generously, he thought.** _Except for a quick drunken grope at a party, of course._******

**_How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling her a Mudblood?_**

Harry shifted position and stretched his legs out in front of him.  Seamus gave him a look as if to say 'why are you so happy? _We're working_!' Harry shook his head.

**_Want to stay in my room tonight? Ron's organised a chess competition in the Common Room, and Hermione will be up to her eyeballs in homework,_** He grinned.  **_No interruptions._**

**_Would I say no?_** Draco wrote, smirking. He realised that McGonagall was looking at him and flipped open his textbook, shuffling parchment and pages. 

**_You are still coming to Alexei's party in fifteen days, right?_** Draco wrote. **_We can probably nick some of Blaise's clothes for you. You two are about the same size._**

**_Wouldn't miss it for the world,_** Harry replied before turning another piece of parchment over and opening his text book.

Quill in his mouth he leafed through the pages hurriedly, trying to recall the numbers McGonagall had told them.  

**_What were the page numbers again?_**

**_36-69,_** Draco wrote promptly, taking another sheet of parchment and actually starting his essay. **_It should be a good party. Usually they are._******

Harry placed his head on his hand, seemingly reading the book and copying down some notes.

****

**_How do you know this guy?_**

**_He's the son of a family friend,_**Draco wrote evasively. Alexei was a Deatheater's eldest son, a death metal fan and a brilliant host._ **He'll be 19, so he's arranged a party. They've hired an entire club off **_**_Horizant_****_ Lane_****_. _**Draco neglected to detail the sort of things that went on at the sort of parties Alexei and his ilk threw.

**_How are we getting there anyway?_** Harry scribbled, a thoughtful look on his face.

:

**_We'll probably have to take the Muggle trains,_** Draco wrote, adding an 'Ugh' at the end. He read a passage on whether it was fair to humans to put them through the pain of transforming fluffy bunnies and gave up in disgust.

Harry's head slipped off his hand and he grumbled under his breath, leaning back on his chair with one hand on his knee and the other writing a reply to Draco.  **_How much longer do we have this for?_**

Draco squinted at the clock._ **27 mins.******_

****

**_This is torture, _**Harry wrote.**_ Even Hermione's bored._**

Harry glanced down his row at Hermione who was writing slower than usual, which was still faster than most of the class.  His gaze moved to Ron who had all but given up, then Dean in the far corner who looked to be asleep, not noticing that Seamus was flicking bits of parchment at him.  **_There has to be a way out of this._**

****

**_I know several ways,_** Draco wrote, watching the clock as it seemed to be going backwards.

**_They better be good, I'm getting desperate.  _**

Harry suddenly noticed something in his book that all but answered the question for them.  **_Check page 41, the small writing under the picture of the deformed snake,_** he wrote to Draco.  **_That'll make the homework easier._**

****

**_Okay, just for that, I'll let you in on one,_**Draco wrote, smiling in relief as he found what Harry had pointed out and began to write it in the most roundabout, repetitive fashion he could think of._ **Point your wand at your mouth and say 'Evomerus'.** _Draco held in a snigger.__

Harry wasn't sure he could trust Draco, especially the glint in his eyes.  'Sod it,' he thought and pointed his wand at his mouth.  "_Evomerus_." He suddenly tensed and leaned forward, vomiting over the side of the desk.  'Draco I'm going to kill you.'

"Mr. Potter!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed. "I think you'd better go to the hospital wing! Mr. Malfoy, will you take him?" She waved her wand and the mess vanished.

Draco stood up and strolled over to Harry, giving him an 'I told you so' look and holding the door for him.

Harry shot a glare at Draco and held a hand over his mouth, pushing up from his desk and walking out quickly.  Once outside he shuddered as Draco shut the door.  "Ok, when I said desperate I didn't mean that desperate."

"Then you should have specified," Draco said reasonably. "Where do you want to go?"

"Do you think I should go to the Hospital Wing, just incase McGonagall checks?" he asked thoughtfully as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"You could just say you felt better," Draco shrugged.

"She might wonder why we didn't come back.  Meh."  Harry shoved his hands into his pockets.  "I have vomit breath now.  Ever been down to the kitchens? We can stop on the way to my room."

"Yeah, sounds good to me." Draco checked his watch. "There'd be no point in going back to the lesson after you've 'finished sicking up in the loo', 'brushed your teeth' and 'had a glass of water'."

Walking up ahead, Harry led the way to the kitchens.  The school was empty, no one was walking around.  Every classroom door was closed and it occurred to Harry that they could probably do anything and no one would see.

He pulled his wand out and flicked it at his mouth, effectively freshening it up.  "We left our bags and books in the classroom."

"We can get them when everyone leaves the room," Draco shrugged it off.

Harry stepped around the corner and sought out the portrait of the bowl of fruit.  He tickled the pear and waited for the opening to appear before stepping through.

Draco followed him doubtfully, looking around with his hands rammed firmly into his pockets. 

"This is servant territory. What are we doing here?" he asked uncomfortably.

Harry rolled his eyes.  "You're really snobby at times, you know."  He was immediately swarmed by House Elves all rushing about, offering food in squeaky voices.

"No, thanks.  I'd just like some sandwiches and whatever he wants," Harry smiled, waving an arm in Draco's direction.

"Mr Harry Potter, sir!" squeaked Dobby loudly, tugging at Harry's pant leg.  "It has been so long since Dobby has last seen you, who is the new boy Mr. Harry Potter brings?"

Draco backed up against the wall, nostrils flaring and eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the servants milling around Harry. 

"Draco Malfoy," Harry answered, taking some bottles of Butterbeer and some sandwiches.  "Don't you remember him?"

"Dobby does remember, sir.  Dobby won't speak ill of his old family.  Dobby bad house elf if he tells of the things Master Malfoy got up to in his spare time."  His eyes widened and he began banging his head on the wall.  "Bad Dobby! Bad!"

Harry winced, and placed a hand on Dobby's shoulder.  "It's ok, Draco's my friend."

Dobby nodded, slightly tearful and sporting a red forehead where he had been banging it on the wall.

Draco looked desperately at Harry as House Elves crowded around him, clamoring for a job to do. Draco took his hands out of his pockets and held them up out of the way, as one would when walking through long stinging nettles. 

"Harry," he almost whimpered. 

Harry turned from Dobby, to see Draco backed into a corner and looking scared.  He laughed.  "They won't bite, Malfoy."

He took a bite out of one of the sandwiches and winked at Dobby.  "How's Winky?"

"Winky is getting better!" Dobby said brightly.  "She will be good house elf.  She doesn't want to get paid like Dobby though, even though she's freed."

A collective shudder went through the House Elves at the word 'paid' and many glared at Dobby.  Harry grinned and patted Dobby's head, deciding that Draco had been tortured enough.  "Right, well, we have to be going now.  I'll see you later?"

Dobby nodded enthusiastically and shuffled off to help prepare some more food.

Draco seemed to be having trouble escaping a group of enthusiastic female Elves and held out his hands imploringly to Harry. 

"Help me!"

Harry laughed, grabbing hold of Draco's hands and pulling him forward, away from the wall.  He hooked an arm around Draco's waist to steady them both.  "What would people say if word got out that the great Draco Malfoy is afraid of House Elves?" he teased, putting two bottles of butterbeer into his pockets and steering them toward the door.

"They're small and squeaky!" Draco protested. "And you're ruining the line of my robes with these bottles." The Malfoy boy felt upstaged and mocked, frankly, and did not like it. 

Harry just laughed.  "They're cute."  He pushed Draco through the exit first before following and looking left and right.  "And you can always buy new robes, you're rich enough."

"They're fucking irritating!" Draco snapped. "And the point is that people might see me with these huge lumps and think I've got hemorrhoids or something nasty like that."

Harry rolled his eyes and pulled a bottle out of his pocket, flipping the lid off with his wand and holding it to his lips.  "That's not so bad, you know.  Then everyone would avoid you, and I'd have you all to myself."

Draco shot a glare at Harry. "That _wasn't_ the point."

"Yeah, but it's a valid one," Harry grinned.

Draco growled, taking a bottle and reaching inside his shirt for a key on a chain. He used the top of the key to pop the lid off and dropped it back inside his robes, taking a long draw at the drink.

"Oh cheer up," Harry said, gulping down a third of the bottle in one go.  "Everyone's in class, and we can do anything we want for the next fifteen minutes."

"It takes longer than fifteen minutes to do what I want," Draco muttered, taking another swig. "Yeah."

Harry raised an eyebrow, dangling the bottle from his fingertips.  "And just what do you want to do?"

"You weren't meant to hear that," Draco smirked, gripping the neck of the bottle and pouring the rest down his throat. "I want to go to a party" - he stepped closer - "get pissed" - closer again - "And do all sorts of things to you that aren't mentioned in polite society." 

He slid his hand around the back of Harry's neck and flicked his tongue across his lips, parting them and twining his tongue with Harry's. 

Harry's eyes widened, and he suddenly felt very dizzy.  He twisted his hands into Draco's shirt so he didn't collapse, his legs feeling like jelly as he went weak at the knees.  He let out a small "meep!" of surprise, before responding.

Draco snickered, stroking the soft skin of Harry's neck. "Fifteen days," he said. "Fifteen days and counting."

"That's too long," Harry murmured, nibbling Draco's bottom lip, his legs not feeling as useless anymore while his hands relinquished their grip and moved to Draco's waist instead.

"I don't know any other parties," Draco mumbled, his voice muffled by his lack of control of his lower lip. "And the party bit's important. Be patient, Potty."

Harry leaned back from Draco and pouted.  "I guess I can wait," he admitted.

"You'd better, because I have to as well," Draco smirked, taking the other bottle of butterbeer and cracking it open. "Things always taste better if you have to wait for them, salivating," he added seductively.

Harry half-closed his eyes.  "You're mean."  He leaned forward and led a trail of kisses along Draco's jaw line, up to his earlobe which he began to nibble and suck.

Draco purred with pleasure, draining the entire bottle in one long draught. 

"Potty, how are you still a virgin?" he asked in a throaty voice. "I'd have thought you'd have been raped by some Hooflepoofles by now."

Harry chuckled.  "I'm not about to lose my virginity to some person I don't care about."  He pulled back and finished his own bottle of butterbeer.  "We better get to my room before anyone comes out."

Draco ran his hand along the wall, grabbing Harry's arm. He pushed a stone hard and green sparks outlined a keyhole. Draco took out his bottle-opening key and turned it in the lock. A wide door opened onto stairs spiraling up towards bright light. 

"It leads to the Owlery. Much closer to your room than we are now," Draco explained, pulling Harry in and throwing his empty bottle out into the corridor.

"How many secret passages do you know?" Harry asked, amused.  He dropped his bottle next to Draco's and followed him into the light.

"It seems like a lot, but only a couple," Draco smiled, turning to walk backwards so he could look at Harry and talk to him.

"I'll have to show you some of the ones us Gryffindors have found," Harry decided, moving nearer the left wall so they could walk next to each other.  "There's one in the Common Room that leads straight into Honeydukes's cellar."

"Not much good to me. Never been in there and never will go in there," Draco said slightly sulkily. 

"Hmm?" Harry asked, slipping an arm around Draco's waist as they walked.  "How come?"

"It's your common room. Not a place for a confirmed Slytherin hell-raiser."

"Eh?" Harry blinked.  "Oh, sorry, my mistake.  It's near the Common Room, not in it."

"Oh, alright then. But still, I won't go in there ever," Draco sighed. 

"The Common Room or Honeydukes?" Harry asked, sensing that Draco seemed upset at something and holding him closer to his side.

Draco gave Harry a flat look. "The cat's puckered sphincter. The common room you dickhead."

Harry rolled his eyes.  "Not even if it was just us two?" he asked.

"But it wouldn't be, would it?"

Harry shrugged, "It would be if everyone was still in class."  He pushed the trap door above their heads open and hoisted himself up onto the straw-covered floor.  He looked around, noticing Hedwig who flew down almost immediately to land on his shoulder.  Harry smiled and stroked her head.  "Hello, Hedwig," he greeted.

"Everyone is still in class," Draco pointed out. "For another ten minutes."

"You'd actually go in?" he asked, turning to look at Draco.  Hedwig hooted at this new person in the Owlery, taking Harry's attention away from her.  "I'm not sure the Fat Lady would let you in."

"The what now?" Draco frowned, wrinkling his nose.

"The way into the Gryffindor common room.  Hey!" Harry turned to glare at Hedwig who had nipped at his ear to get his attention again.

"Well, I can charm anything female. Yes, before you ask, that does include animals," Draco grinned. "Shall we try? I'm curious."

Harry hesitated before holding out his arm to Draco, Hedwig staring at him out of big amber eyes.  She clucked her beak then swooped over to land on Draco's left shoulder.

Draco looked at the owl, stroking her downy chest and gazing into her gold eyes out of his silver ones. They simply locked eyes for a minute, Draco stroking down her chest with the back of his knuckle. Hedwig cooed happily and nibbled his hair. 

"She's lovely, Potty."

Harry smiled.  "Hedwig's great, she's never failed to deliver a letter yet."

Hedwig ruffled her feathers importantly before turning her head to look at Draco, looking up at him out of wide, adoring amber eyes.

"I think she likes you," Harry pointed out.

"How can she not?" Draco smiled, somehow finding an after dinner mint in his pocket and breaking off little bits for the owl. 

"So, you want to try the common room?"

"Probably wouldn't make it now," Harry replied, checking his watch.  "And I've become attached to my room."

Hedwig spread her wings wide and took flight, showing off for Draco as she flew around the Owlery once then landed on a perch.

"Well, let's go to your room," Draco shrugged, smiling and offering Hedwig more chocolate as she settled her feathers.

Harry grinned; Hedwig looked like she was made for Draco, her amber eyes and white feathers looking good against Draco's silvery-blonde hair and grey eyes.  "Think we can make it in five minutes?"

"Yeah, sure we can," Draco said, stroking Hedwig's head with a thumb and giving her the rest of the mint before leading down out of the Owlery.

Harry followed, joining Draco on the corridor at a leisurely pace.  He finished off a sandwich in his pocket and pulled another bottle out of his left pocket.  "What lesson do we have next?"

"I don't know about you, but I've got herbology with the Hooflepoofles," Draco said, passing the statue of Volvicio and waiting at Harry's door.

Harry pulled the key from around his neck and unlocked the door.  He stepped in and kicked his shoes of before pointing his wand at the fire and collapsing on his bed.  "I think I have DADA," he said slowly.  "That or Divination."

"I plan to skive," Draco announced, wandering into Harry's bathroom to make use of the facilities. "Can I stay in here?"

"Sure."  Harry rolled onto his back and checked the timetable he'd pinned to his wall.  "Hm, I have a free."

"Great," Draco beamed, coming out of the bathroom. 

"Not really," Harry groaned. "Snape demands that I practice Occlumency with him during my free's."

"Oh," Draco said, disheartened. "I'll just poke around here. I've got flying after herbology but I don't have to go because I'm on the team."

Harry pulled a face.  "I don't want to go."

"It's lunch now. Hour off lessons," Draco said soothingly, kicking off his shoes and jumping onto Harry's bed.

Harry frowned and finished off the last of his Butterbeer.  "It's not fair.  Everyone else gets to spend a free how they want.  I have to spend it learning Occlumency."

"What for?" Draco asked, recalling walking in on Harry during fifth year when he was attempting Occlumency.

"To stop Voldemort looking in on what I'm seeing," Harry replied softly, closing his eyes.  "Last year, he used it against me, made me believe that Sirius was in the Department of Mysteries being tortured.  So I went, and took the prophecy, and Sirius died and -oh hell," his voice hitched and he stopped abruptly, fighting to stop himself from crying aloud at the injustice.

Draco sighed and buried his face in the hollow between Harry's neck and his shoulder. 

"He's such a shit," he murmured. "So afraid of dying."

Harry didn't reply, only wrapped his arms around Draco.  'It's all my fault, all my fault,' repeated over and over in his mind.  'First Cedric and now Sirius.  All my fault.'

"It wasn't your fault that Black died," Draco whispered, laying a hand on Harry's stomach. "There was nothing you could do."

"I could have actually bothered to learn Occlumency, instead of wanting to dream," Harry replied bitterly, seeing Sirius falling through the veil in his minds eye.

"There are important things..." Draco shook his head. He had tried to explain how it would help before, but no one listened to him. "Occlumency is hard. You've already got a part of it because you can resist Imperius. If you hadn't gone there, what would have happened? Black would die somehow. People are meant to pass on sometimes. You need to hate the Dark Lord with a passion so great that it actually burns in your chest like your lungs have filled with boiling water and you're drowning in it, setting your soul on fire and melting your skin away to reveal what you can really do." Draco's low voice was intense. "You have to hate him so much that the pain makes you want to die, so that you blur the boundaries between living and dying and you don't care anymore. If you learn not to care about death - if you learn how to befriend it - you won't be afraid. He is so terrified of dying that he'll do anything to avoid it. If you can be indifferent, you will win. Your parents, Diggory, Black... They were all to show you death and make you familiar with it, so that you know its name and the sound of its footsteps as it catches up with you, so you can turn and face it. No one faces death until they're too old or injured to fight it. Think about it."

Draco stood up and walked over to the window and stood with his back to Harry and arms folded.

Harry blinked, and his eyes opened slowly to look at the ceiling of his bed.  "The only thing the Dark Lord is afraid of is death," he echoed.  "I don't fear it, nor do I embrace it.  It's just... there.  Despite what people think I don't hate death, I hate that I've lost people close to me."

"Then you're wise," Draco said quietly. "I'm sorry. I've thought about it a lot, but no one ever listens to me."

Harry pushed himself up off the bed and strode across the room to Draco, encircling his waist from behind.  "Everyone's entitled to their opinion," he replied, resting his chin on Draco's shoulder.  "Just some people don't like hearing what they don't believe in."

Draco grunted his assent, weariness sweeping over him.

"I should just go," he mumbled. "I'm in a bad mood now. I shouldn't have troubled you with it."

Harry closed his eyes and took his arms from around Draco's waist.  "If you want to go then go, I won't get in the way," he replied quietly.

"I don't want to go," Draco whispered hoarsely, walking over and throwing himself face down onto the sofa.

Harry pulled his jumper off and undid his tie, unbuttoning the top button on his shirt before walking over to Draco and leaning on the arm of the sofa nearest his feet.  "Then stay," he smiled.

"Mmph," Draco said, his voice muffled by the pillows.

Harry wriggled onto the sofa behind Draco, and placed an arm around the boy's waist.  "Sleep?" he asked.

"Sleep," Draco mumbled.

Harry closed his eyes, running a hand through Draco's hair.  "Sleep," he confirmed.

Draco turned on his side, nestling against Harry. "I don't sleep," he muttered.

"Insomniac?" Harry asked, barely restraining a yawn.

"Yeah," Draco mumbled.

Harry ran his hand in circles on Draco's back.  "I'm sorry," he apologised, yawning again.

"Not really your fault," Draco replied, fitting his head under Harry's chin like a small child.

"Yeah, but I feel bad for sleeping now."

"Well, actually it is partly your fault, but that sounds mean, so I won't mention it. If you sleep then at least one of us does."

Draco could tell by the regular rise and fall of Harry's chest that he was asleep. Somehow, Draco didn't hate him for it as he hated others. The only reason Draco was known as the Slytherin Party Animal was because he could stay awake all through the night and still be functioning the next day. No one but Blaise, and now Harry, knew that this was because he wouldn't have been asleep even if he was in bed. 

Draco supposed that it was probably incredible - superhuman, in a way - that he could live on about an hour's disrupted, broken sleep a night. He spent ages on his homework because he had nothing better to do, trained for Quidditch at all times of the day and night because it made his body weary, and then at least he stood half a chance of sleeping. 

Draco sighed, looking up at Harry's peacefully sleeping face. 

"I'd take the burden of those dreams, Harry," he whispered. "They'd be no worse than my own."

***

Harry awoke to the continual sound of rain hitting the windows.  He rolled over, and promptly managed to fall off the sofa with a thud, jarring his elbow.  "Ow, Dammit," he cursed, pushing himself up into a sitting position.  'Where's Draco?'

He glanced around, trying to spot the blonde haired Malfoy.  He walked over to the bathroom and knocked twice, "Malfoy, you in there?" he asked quietly, only to find the bathroom empty.  He continued to look around, the feeling of dread in his stomach increasing with every step he took.  Finally, he collapsed on the bed, arms and legs spread out wide.  'He left me.'

There was a soft knock at the door and Draco came in, his and Harry's bags slung over his shoulders and a plate of sandwiches in his hands. His robes were pulled 'out of line' by four butterbeers in his pockets. 

"Lunch," he mumbled, putting the plate on the end of the bed and unloading the bottles. He dropped the bags onto the floor and climbed up beside Harry. 

"You scared me," Harry whispered, sitting up and hugging himself.  The fire had long since burned out, and the rain was making him feel cold.

Draco looked blank. "Oh right, yeah. Well, sorry. I wanted to get our stuff..."

"Just, leave a note or something next time?" Harry asked, reaching a hand into Draco's pocket to pull out a bottle.

"You were asleep," Draco pointed out, pushing the sandwiches towards Harry. "I thought you might be hungry."

"Thanks," Harry smiled, opening the bottle and drinking half before picking up a sandwich.  "How long was I out?"

"Only half an hour," Draco answered. "Give or take five minutes."

"So I haven't missed Occlumency."  Harry took a bite of the sandwich before apologising, "Sorry, you were probably bored..."

"Not really," Draco shrugged, staring moodily down at his hands, which were plucking at the bedcovers. 

Finishing the sandwich, Harry glanced over at Draco and reached out a hand to brush some of the blonde hair out of his face.  "Are you ok?"

"Yes," Draco answered shortly, avoiding Harry's eyes.

Harry frowned and crawled over to Draco, tugging at the tie the other boy was still wearing.  "You're lying," he accused.

"No one's perfect," Draco answered in a monotone.

Harry's frown deepened and he crossed his legs, looking at Draco imploringly.  "What's wrong?"

"See, most people would say they were tired as an excuse," Draco continued tonelessly. "I really am. It hits me sometimes."

Harry put his hands on Draco's cheeks, cradling his face.  "Why don't you ask Snape for a potion?" he asked softly, eyes filled with concern.

"Because then it would be someone else's problem," Draco droned. "It's my problem and sometimes it helps me out."

Harry leaned in and brushed his lips across Draco's lightly.  "You do know I'd do almost anything for you, right?"

"Yeah," Draco said with a faint smile. 

"Then tell me how I can help," Harry replied, leaning his forehead against Draco's.

"You can't," Draco said stiffly.

Harry smiled sadly.  "I know, but sometimes the thought that someone would say they wanted to help me even if they couldn't helps me."

"I said I wanted to help you and I can, but you don't want to be helped," Draco mumbled, only then realising that he was doing exactly the same thing.

Harry closed his eyes for a second.  "All you have to do is ask."

"I don't want to ask," Draco said sulkily. 

"Then tell me."

"Alright. I'm a complete insomniac. Since I was about five years old I've only ever had an hour or two's sleep a night. I'm plagued by nightmares some nights and some I just wake up randomly. I learnt how to live with it, but it makes me pretty disagreeable. I picked up some bad habits - I smoked for a while, still get pissed fairly often, try to wear myself out any way I can." He looked up briefly and gave Harry a meaningful glance. "If you know what I mean. I get good marks because I work until I pass out, because it's the only way I get any peace. By all accounts, I should be scrawny, but I spend ages working out and playing Quidditch so I'm tired. I think about things for so long that the ideas become warped - twisted - too intense. I get jealous because I dwell on things so long that I start to covet them and cling to them desperately because they help me pass the lonely hours..."

Draco trailed off, lowering his eyes.

Harry was quiet as he studied Draco's face intently, stroking one cheek with his thumb.  "I feel so bad for you, I'd try and stay up to keep you company, but once I'm tired I zone out.  I don't know what I can do, really," he apologised, looking at the bed.

"I told you, you couldn't help," Draco said faintly.

"Draco..."  Harry looked up at him through long lashes.  "I could... get Snape to make me a potion... find a spell to keep me awake..."

"I don't want you to be awake as well, you idiot," Draco snapped, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. "What good would that do anyone?"

"I could keep you company, so you wouldn't be alone."  Harry dropped his hands to either side of his legs, bracing his weight on them.

Draco dropped his chin to his chest, looking up at Harry coyly

"Those potions have side effects. You'd know that if you were any good at potions."

"So?" Harry asked.  "If you were happy I wouldn't mind."

Draco looked at Harry for a moment and roared with laughter. He shifted closer to Harry until he was straddling his legs. He bent his head and whispered, "As well as awakening your mind, they awaken something else." As he said it, he pressed his hand against Harry's groin.

Harry made a strangled noise somewhere in the back of his throat, flushing bright red.  Maybe paying attention in Potions was actually a good thing.

"You'd certainly be able to keep me company. We could have late night... _study_ sessions."

There was that annoying strangled noise in his throat again.  Harry nodded his head slowly, unable to do much else.  "Mhmm."

Draco did not remove his hand from Harry's groin. "Don't you wish you hadn't suggested it?" he asked, shifting his position and, rather deliberately, leaning on his hand.

Harry growled and pulled his hands up, placing them on Draco's shoulders and pushing him back onto the bed.   He leaned over him, putting a hand on either side of Draco's head, one leg between Draco's.  He moved so fast, Draco didn't have much time to react.  "Oh, I don't know about that."

"Good. We can study it if you're not sure."

Harry glared at Draco, trying to ignore the fact he was lay on top of the Slytherin.

Draco was clearly not in the mood for ignoring that fact. One hand slid up the hot velvet skin of Harry's stomach and the other hooked its fingers into the waistband of Harry's trousers.

Harry closed his eyes and he let out a low throaty moan, unconsciously moving closer to Draco.  Draco froze as he heard a knock at the door. He pushed Harry off him and rolled right off the side of the bed, tucking himself beneath it. 

Harry opened his eyes and toppled over the bed, nearly landing on Draco.  He stood up hurriedly.  "H-Hello?"

"Harry, it's us!" It was Ron's voice. 

"Oh shit," Harry murmured, re-arranging his shirt and pants, glad the bed was separating him and Draco from Ron and Hermione at the door.  "Oh, come in."

Ron and Hermione walked in, smiling nervously. 

"You said we could come and have a poke around the room today," Ron reminded him.

"I did?" Harry asked, conscious of the fact Draco was lay on the floor next to him.

"Yeah..." Ron looked at Hermione for support and she nodded. 

Draco, lying on the floor, reached a hand out and gripping Harry's ankle tightly and suddenly, desperately trying not to snigger.

Harry started suddenly, not expecting Draco to grab hold of his ankle.  "Um, well."

"Aren't you going to give us a guided tour?" Hermione beamed expectantly. 

"Show them the knicker drawer," Draco whispered.

Harry kicked out at Draco behind him, giving the strange impression that he was hopping on the spot.

"Well," Harry started uncomfortably.  "Wouldn't you prefer to come another day when it's lighter?" 'And Draco Malfoy's not holding my leg.'

"It's pretty light now," Ron frowned, looking about him. "Is this your bathroom?" He began walking towards Harry. 

Draco could see Ron's feet as they came towards him and slipped his fingers under Harry's bare foot, tickling fervently. 

Harry grimaced, trying desperately not to start laughing or kick out madly at Draco.  "No! I mean - yes, yes it is.  And eh, over there" - he nodded his head in the direction of the fireplace and window - "there's a window seat."

Hermione nodded. "We can see that, Harry. Oh, your bed looks comfy!" She crossed the room and jumped on it in a rather un-Hermione-like fashion. There was a muffled squeak as Draco was almost kicked in the head. 

"What was that?" Ron frowned. "I think you might have a mouse in here."

He walked over to the bed and reached down to lift up the cover that hung down, hiding Draco from view.

Harry paled, grabbing Ron's arm and dragging him over to the mirror.  "Come over here Ron, Hermione.  The mirror's enchanted, it shows you, you in all different outfits."

'Get out of my room!'

Draco gave a small grunt of dissent and pouted in the dusty darkness. Hermione stood up and followed the rather puzzled Ron and Harry to the mirror. 

"It's brilliant."

Harry decided he'd entertained his guests for long enough and looped an arm around each of their waists, walking them over to the door and giving them a gentle push out.  "It really isn't a good time," he apologised, shutting the door in their faces, putting his back to it and sliding into a sitting position on the floor.

"Nicely executed," Draco commented, rolling out from under the bed.

"Now, where were we?"

***

Rain lashed against the darkened windows of the Slytherin dormitory as Draco knelt before the fire with a handful of glittering green powder. This fire provided the only light in the room, and as he cast the handful of Floo powder into it, the whole room glowed green. 

"Alexei Vikenstaff, Steinberg House," he said clearly, feeling his hair billow back from his face. 

Slowly, a shape revolved in the flames. 

Alexei's bright, amber eyes blinked, making sure that no soot had gotten in.  He had golden brown hair which had grown down to just his collar, and flicked out along his pristine white shirt.  Stray locks of hair fell on either side of his eyes, brushing his defined cheek-bones when he moved.

"Guten Tag, Draco!" he greeted in a thick German accent.  "How are you?"

"Sehr gut," Draco said promptly. "You're looking well, Lexy. Hey, is your party still on? Only I've got a guest who might be a little ... disliked ... by some of the company you keep," he said delicately. "Will that be a problem?"

"Hm.  Who is this person?" Alexei asked, sand coloured eyebrows furrowing together in thought.

"Harry Potter," Draco shrugged, flicking his fringe out of his eyes.

Alexei laughed.  "By all means bring him!" he grinned.  "Ve could have some fun with him."

Draco looked wary. "As long as I get first blood," he said with an ominous grin. "I thought it'd be okay, as most of us are breakaways anyway. My dad hates things I like, so I like things he hates."

"You like him?" Alexei commented with a knowing smirk.  "I vill tell some of my friends to 'back off', no doubt they vill want some of him, I hear he's quite the catch."

"Oh trust me, he is," Draco smirked. "He needs breaking in, though, so I'm sure they can play around a bit. Like I said, just so long as I get him first and then get him back when I want him."

Draco moved his legs around to cross them and lean his elbows on his knees. 

"So how've you been? I haven't seen you since Abby's nineteenth. Bloody hell that was a good party," Draco reminisced. "I lost a lot of my remaining innocence last summer, but I think I'm healthier for it. I saw you with Dolohov's son, did that go anywhere? Merlin, I'm full of questions..."

"Garin?" Alexei asked with a slightly vampiric grin.  "He vas quite the performer, though he was very... langweilig out of the bedroom."  He let out a short laugh and flicked his head back to move a lock of hair out of his eyes.  "Ja.  That was a party I won't forget for a while."

"Good old Rafe," Draco laughed. "I swore I'd never walk straight again, though that might have been that booze Abby managed to procure. Are Rafe and Abby going to be there?"

"Ja.  Rafe has a new play-boy, it should make things sehr interessant, no?" Alexei chuckled.  "You were quite the performer too, or so he said."  He let out another laugh, his eyes twinkling.  "It has been too long, Draco.  I'm sure everyone agrees.  Mitzi is desperate to meet you again; sie seems to have decided that you're hers.  I hope Potter is not possessive."

"Ah, he owes me one," Draco said, thinking of Muddy. "I'm sure Klaus will snap him up and let me have a bit of free time."

Alexei lifted a bottle of something unlabelled to his lips and took a swig before replying, "Ve had better end this conversation, I have places to go and people to meet to get this party sorted.  Bis bald!"

"Bis dann," Draco smiled. "We'll be there. Make sure no one who might bear us ill will come."

Alexei nodded, and brushed his chin with a hand, finishing the rest of the bottle.  There was a small pop as he disappeared from the fire and it returned to normal.

Draco sat back with a smile. Things would be alright. He had been thinking that he might have to Polyjuice Harry into Blaise or something horrible like that...


	12. Lucius and the Death Eaters

Play the Game

By Micro-chick and Morgana Malfoy

A/N: Lucius reflects on being one of the bad guys and all the perks it brings.  Like death, freedom, and an utterly sexy voice ;) whilst Draco and Blaise relive the past.  Who knew tattoo's could be in such fun places?

_Since when was love a game? Draco Malfoy does not play games.  Chess, cards, and quidditch are games.  Love doesn't have rules… right? Therefore it's not a game.  But why are both the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike no longer playing by the rules?_

Chapter Twelve

It was, Lucius reflected, rather fun being one of the 'bad guys'. Things seemed always to go your way... Until someone like Potter turned up, of course. That always blew things. 

The blond man settled back against the wall of his cell. It was so humiliating. He plucked at the dirty, patched fabric of his Azkaban issue robes. It stank, but he was getting used to it. Hopefully, that would end. The thing that wouldn't be better when he escaped would be his hair. They'd cut it all off, until it was about a centimetre long, but it was growing back. Lucius had been incredibly pissed off at that. They were not satisfied with simply imprisoning him, but felt the need to humiliate him too. He ran a hand over his inch-long hair with a sneer curling his lip. No one would recognise him when he got out. He was smelly and dirty, grey-faced with tiredness from sitting awake and plotting all night. 

But it had pulled off, of course. Lucius Malfoy never failed.

Just then, there was a shout outside and a drawn out screech followed by a rumble that was felt rather than heard ripped through the air. The Dark Mark was being cast. 

Lucius stood up and ran to the bars of his cell. The Dementors had gone from his door, drifting eerily away in the direction of the entrance. 

"We will not capitulate! We will take the world down in flames!" The slogan was shouted by hundreds of voices outside the prison. Lucius crossed to the other side of his small cell, lifting himself up. A green glow shone through the bars, and he could see the Dark Mark hanging over the sea. Black-robed figures stretched all the way down to the meager beach, holding emerald-flamed torches high over their heads. And there, there at the front, was the Dark Lord. 

As the chanting continued, it was lifted by many voices within the prison itself. Lucius' hoarse throat croaked out the familiar words with a tremendous lifting of his soul. 

All through Azkaban, wizard guards had their souls 'kissed' away. The Deatheaters stormed through the halls of the horrific prison, breaking the wards and kicking the doors through. Lucius ran to his door and stepped back as it was shattered. Green flames began licking up the sides as he jumped through and was handed a torch. 

"Welcome back," Mr. Borgin smiled, patting him on the back before moving on to the next cell. 

Lucius dodged through the crowds, looking for someone who had time to tell him what was happening. There was the Dark Lord, standing by a robed figure who was going through the offices for the wands of all the imprisoned Deatheaters. Malfoy pushed his way through to get to them. He bowed to Voldemort respectfully.

"My Lord," he intoned.

"My, My, Lucius," The cold voice of the Dark Lord floated out from behind the mask.  "How wonderful it is to see you again."

He reached out a pale bony hand, a wand firmly clasped in it.  "You seem to have forgotten your manners - kneel before your master.  _Contorqueo__ Amputo_."  He watched in morbid amusement as Lucius's leg muscles twisted at impossible angles and he fell to the floor.  "Need I remind you," he drawled, "Of the failure you were in the Ministry of Magic?"

He lifted the curse and stared down at Lucius imperiously.

"I remember fully myself, but thanks," Lucius drawled. "My Lord," he added.

The Dark Lord frowned and raised his wand again, pointing it at Lucius's chest.  "_Conglacio__ Pectus_," he chanted, taking the time to smirk as Lucius's breath was cut off, effectively stopping him from talking.  "Now, Lucius, while you are quiet I have a proposition for you.  It seems we are in need of a place with Dungeons, and a large potential dueling arena."  He lifted the curse off Lucius, taking Lucius's wand from the Deatheater next to him and handing it to the man.  "Malfoy Manor fits our requirements."

Lucius gripped his wand, sitting back on his heels. "I'll have the furniture moved to the upper levels as soon as I return home," he said after catching his breath. "It shouldn't take too long. When will you need it, My Lord?"

"As soon as is possible, we have entrance into Hogwarts, the Zabini's assure me of that."  Voldemort twirled his wand lazily in his hand and strode forward past Lucius, knowing the man would follow him.  "By Saturday, Harry Potter will be no more."

Lucius rose to his feet, walking a respectful distance behind his lord. "I have been told of the plans," he said. "I'll make preparations for what you require. Might I take a detachment of our number to aid me in clearing the Manor?"

"If you must," The Dark Lord replied with severe distaste.  "I would have thought that you would be able to do this by yourself, clearly, Azkaban has clouded your senses.  You may take Wormtail with you." 

Wormtail, previously unnoticed, shuffled forward, his silver hand glinting in the torch light.

"We shall be there before morning appears."  A Dementor glided over to them, holding a body in its arms which was trembling madly.  "Ah, Casimiro Dominguez.  Or should I say, Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"With all due respect, My Lord, the Dementors have a draining effect on one's abilities," Lucius said. "If you believe that I should do it by myself, I would certainly prefer that to working with Wormtail."

"Wormtail understands the requirements I will be needing," The Dark Lord replied, grinning mirthlessly at the Auror captured in the Dementors arms.

"Such an old fool," he said almost regretfully.  "Sending a boy to look after Azkaban when it is so clearly mine.  Don't you agree Kingsley?" he asked.  "_Concrepo__ Os_."

Several cracks were heard as Kingsley's legs broke, leaving him relying on the Dementor to remain upright.  The Dark Lord smirked, "_Crucio_."  He nodded to the Dementor to leave then turned back to Lucius as the Auror writhed and screamed on the floor.  "You can apparate from the main entrance; Mr Nott assured me that he would have everything set up."

"Poor, muggle-loving old fool," he muttered, turning back to Kingsley and lifting the curse, leaving the man trembling and half-dead on the floor.  "Lets see how he fairs without the Dementors and one of his precious Order.  _Avada__ Kedavra_."  As the green light hit Kingsley, The Dark Lord leaned his head back and let out a cackle, kicking the body out of his way.  "Say hello to Albus for me, he'll be joining you soon enough."

Lucius laughed darkly, making his way out to the front of the building. A cold wind scraped over the cliffs of the island and Lucius wrapped his arms around himself, casting a spell for warmth. He was disappointed at how pathetic his power was, but it would build up soon. He just needed some good food. His stomach was positively concave. 

The emaciated man made his way down some steps to Nott, who put a hand to his shoulder.

"You're looking well," he said sarcastically. 

"Not as well as I feel," Lucius smiled faintly. "Potter will be ours, and no one can stand in our way."

***

Blaise Zabini was scared.  Not full-blown scared, but more of a small feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was going to go horribly and terribly wrong.  No one else seemed to have noticed this, so he had kept it to himself, becoming slightly more moodier and distant than was considered normal.  

Then, there was the fact that the ring he had been given for Christmas off his parents would not come off and he was strangely acutely aware of it at all times - even while sleeping.  The thought creeped him out to the point where Blaise had even tried magic to get the silver thumb-ring off, but to no avail.  He dared not to talk to Draco about it, fearing that the other boy would laugh at him; after all, it was a simple piece of metal jewellery.  But all the same, he didn't seem to be able to dispel the dark cloud he felt following him all the time at the moment.

This was the feeling he received when he found himself passed out on the sofa in the Common Room - having no recollection of ever walking in, his last memory being taking notes in Potions.  The fire was burning in the grate, which Blaise found slightly surprising seeing as no one was in the room but himself, and he knew for a fact that he was such a light sleeper he would have heard someone walking into the room to turn it on.  Blaise frowned and pushed himself into a standing position, testing his legs warily.

As he turned to leave the Common Room, he noticed a head floating in the fireplace, watching him calmly.  He jumped.  "What the hell?!" he demanded, falling to his knees in front of the fire and glaring at the man who was staring at him.  "Do you _know_ how dangerous talking to me now is? It's a fucking school day.  I've sorted out the floo system already; you can get in and out."

Blaise blinked, and when he re-opened his blue eyes they were slightly darker, with a metallic glint.  The ring around his finger glistened in the fire light.  "I've done everything the Dark Lord has asked me to," he replied, with a slight bow of the head.  "Everything is ready."

The man nodded, then his face disappeared.  Blaise brushed himself down and left the room, memories of the conversation he had just had disappearing from his mind instantly.

"Good Merlin, Blaise, you look healthy," Draco drawled. "Positively blooming." He swapped his bag to the other shoulder. "Maybe you should go and get some food. There's still food in the Hall."

He had just that minute come from there, having spent the whole lonely time trying to watch Harry without being seen.

Blaise jumped, before whirling around to look at Draco warily.  "I've, I don't know.  Been sat in the Common Room."

"I think you need to get out into the sun," Draco said critically, lifting Blaise's lip to see if he'd developed fangs.

Blaise snarled and jerked his head backwards.  "Sod off," he snapped.  "I'm fine."

Draco backed away, a slightly suspicious wary expression on his face. "No offence, Blaise, but you don't look it."

"I'm perfectly fine," Blaise replied, stressing each word.  "Now, are you coming to the Great Hall?"

"I already went," Draco said coldly. "I waited for you for over an hour."

Blaise sighed.  "I'm sorry, I've been busy," he apologised, unable to meet Draco's eyes for fear the other boy would notice that even Blaise himself didn't know where he had been.

"I can always sit and watch you eat," Draco relented. "Let me just drop my bags off and I'll be right with you." 

He jogged back down to the common room, returning shortly afterwards without his school things.  Blaise was stood exactly where Draco had left him, staring at the floor with a thoughtful look on his face.  As Draco came back he looked up and began to walk.  "How's Potter?" he asked conversationally.

"He's okay," Draco answered, smiling. "A little irritable, but okay."

"Have you asked Alexei yet if he can come to the party?" Blaise asked, the thought only just occurring to him that Harry might not be 'welcomed' there.

"Yeah, I did," Draco said. "He said it'd be funny. You know Alexei."

Blaise smiled slightly and turned the corner into the Great Hall, shrugging his bag further up his shoulder.  "Yeah, you'll have to tell him hi from me."

"You're not going?"

Blaise shook his head.  "No, I have to stay here," he said slowly.  "My parents... have forbid me from going."

Draco frowned. "They're getting protective. Maybe it's the fact that you're sixteen now, and they think that'll make a difference to your various activities." He gave a short, derisive laugh.

Blaise smirked.  "I think they're a bit late."

"Precisely my point," Draco grinned. "As is my father. He attempted 'the birds and the bees' in a rather 'Lucius' way last summer. He avoided the subject admirably, and didn't blush once. It was only when I told him that I knew as much as he did when he was my age that he sighed in relief and walked out."

Blaise laughed as they walked into the Great Hall, and seated themselves at the end of the table nearest the doors.  "Well, you know my parents.  They don't really give a damn about me at the best of times."

"I bet you could teach them a few things. Can't you just sneak to Alexei's? They'd never know." Draco's tone was imploring, almost pleading. He'd never been to Alexei's parties without Blaise. It was a tradition. They always did something incredibly stupid together. Draco vaguely recalled scaling London Bridge in his underwear and having to be removed by the Muggle police the next morning.

Blaise shook his head, "I'm sorry Drake."  Wow, he hadn't just that nickname in a while. "Have fun with Potter," he said quietly, almost regretfully as he scooped some Shepard's pie onto his plate.

"You're not staying away because of him, are you?" Draco asked shrewdly, loosening his tie and re-tying it again.

Blaise shook his head again.  "'Course not; I'd actually like to see how you could _possibly _manage to like him."

Draco laughed. "Well, if you can sneak away..." 

"I'll try, but I can't promise anything."  

They sat in relatively comfortable silence for a while as Blaise ate.  He was wondering why he had said he couldn't go to Draco, and trying to remember the exact words his parents had said to him, but failing miserably.

Draco, not one to dwell on things that couldn't be solved, was trying to remember how he came to be on top of London Bridge in nothing but his boxers with a piercing in his nipple and 'sex is evil, evil is sin, sin's forgiven, so get stuck in' tattooed on his left buttock. It had involved card games, dares, bets and drinking competitions, almost certainly not in that order. Draco was quite a different person when he was with someone he enjoyed being with or pissed, or especially both. He reflected that it would have been incredibly humiliating were it not for the fact that Blaise was found chained to the railings outside Buckingham palace in a tutu and Alexei himself was sitting on the top of Nelson's Column in Trafalgar Square.

"Do you think I'll end up with even more exciting accessories this time around?" Draco grinned, running a hand over his arse with a rueful grin. 

"Hm?" Blaise asked distractedly, turning to face Draco, and finishing his Shepard's Pie.  "Oh?" he asked with a grin.  "I don't know.  Probably, but Alexei's not one to repeat stunts, I'd say he'll have something else planned."

"At least the nipple ring came out," Draco said, rubbing his chest. "I had to keep it in for ages while I built up the guts to take it out."

"Are you talking about Alexei's do last year?" Pansy asked, turning her chair to face them. 

Blaise smirked, "Yeah, we are.  Remember it well, Pansy?"

"No," she grinned. "Only random fragments." She smiled at him. "Still have that tattoo, Draco?" 

"Yep," Draco grinned. "You?"

"I had mine lasered off," she replied, shrugging. "I didn't like it as much as you like yours."

"That's because yours was positioned near the wrong entry," Draco said nastily. "It should have been across your mouth."

Blaise laughed and picked up a banana, beginning to peel it absently.  "True."

Pansy scowled at Draco. "I suppose you two are going again this year?"

Blaise shook his head.  "Can't make it this year, you?"

"I'm going," Draco murmured.

"That's always good news. I'll be going, but I think I'll avoid you," Pansy said, as though Draco would actually feel at a loss for not having her delightful company. 

"Got a guest?" Draco asked suddenly. 

"No," Pansy said, shaking her hair back from her shoulders. "I prefer to pick people up there. If I took a guest, I'd only have to distribute him or her to that crowd of jackals."

"Mm," Draco said absently. "Probably something to do with the fact that jackals are better looking than pugs," he added in a whisper to Blaise.

Blaise smirked, taking a bite of the banana.  "I don't remember you taking anyone last year, or the year before that.  Come to think of it, you haven't_ ever _brought someone."

"But I didn't need to," Pansy snapped. 

"That would be a combination of the drugs and alcohol," Draco explained. "She'd never get anyone otherwise."

Pansy mouthed in outrage. 

"How did you manage to scrounge an invite anyway?" Blaise asked curiously.

Pansy glared at him and stood up, flouncing out. Solemnly, Draco shook Blaise's hand.

"A job well done, my friend," he said.

Blaise laughed, finishing off his banana.  "Come on, lets go."

Draco nodded, standing up.   "Other than chain you to Buckingham Palace gates in a tutu, what did they do to you last summer?" Draco asked curiously.

"Dyed my hair permanently dark blue," Blaise said, pulling a piece of hair away from his head and holding it up to the light for Draco to see.  It was a dark, midnight blue that looked black when it was all together.  "Someone had shaved one of my legs and not the other too," he added, remembering the morning vividly.

"I_ thought_ your hair was more a dark reddish black before the party, but I was hardly in any state to remember." Draco had the grace to look guilty. "I was the one who waxed your leg when you passed out on the floor."

"Seeing as we're confessing stuff, when I woke up and you were the nearest person, that nipple ring was a two-man job," Blaise grinned.

"A two-man job?" Draco asked suspiciously, hand unconsciously going to his chest.

Blaise laughed, "Mitzi seemed to be unable to point her wand right.  And I had to _help_ her, so to speak."

"So what did you do?" Draco asked, grinning.

"Ah," Blaise replied with a wicked smile.  "That's between me and Mitzi."

Draco's eyes shot open. 

"Okay, using my own misdemeanors as I guide, should I look at you in a different light?"

Blaise laughed, jumping up from the table and picking up his bag.  "I'd say you'd be wise to do so."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "You can look at me differently too, but I'm sure you already do."

He remembered Harry's words as he stepped aside for some fifth year girls, and smiled at them. 

"Leandro's a dirty git sometimes," he continued, as the girls walked off giggling.

"So I've heard," Blaise replied, slipping between two of the girls.  "I always thought you'd lost your virginity _before_ Alexei's party in fourth year."

"Not so," Draco smiled. "I was dating Pansy before that party."

Blaise stopped dead in the middle of the corridor and shuddered violently.  "_Don't _put thoughts like that in my head."

"Precisely my point. I'd never have done that before that party. Abby, what a great girl..."

"Have to agree there, mate."  Blaise hurried up steps to catch up with Draco.  "Very... flexible."

"What about you? I remember you vanishing for a while at the fourth year party."

Blaise laughed, his eyes twinkling.  "Not what you'd think.  I got extremely pissed and was out in the yard singing."

"Hmm," Draco grinned. "Have you got any homework to do?"

"Arithmancy, but I can't be bothered with that," he shrugged.  "And we got Transfiguration, which _you_ missed being out on, in the hall shagging Potter."

"I wasn't shagging Potter," Draco corrected. "I was telling him that I planned to."

Blaise shrugged, "Same difference."

"It was less fun," Draco pointed out. 

"True," Blaise admitted as they stepped into the Slytherin Common Room, and he noticed with a strange jolt in his stomach that the fire was lit.

"There a problem?" Draco asked, frowning at Blaise.

Blaise dragged his gaze away from the fire to face Draco.  He shook his head.  "No, not at all..."__

***

The Gryffindor sixth year boys sat in relative silence, Seamus and Dean doing last minute homework, Harry staring at his plate and Ron reading the paper. If this seems a slightly sedate activity, he did steal it from Hermione. 

Suddenly, the peace was spoiled as Ron spat honey loops all over the table.  "BLOODY HELL!" he exclaimed.

Harry started, looking up suddenly at Ron.  "What is it?" he asked.

Ron held the paper out with a shaking hand. 

"Every single Deatheater has escaped from Azkaban," he whispered.

Seamus slid along the bench to sit next to Harry and peer over his shoulder, reading the newspaper also.

"Bloody hell," Harry agreed, folding the paper up and placing it on the table with a thoughtful expression.

"He's taken the Dementors with him?" Seamus asked, frowning.  "Why?"

"I don't bloody know!" Ron squeaked. "Because they're evil and so is he?"

"Well this sucks," Seamus decided.

Harry murmured his agreement.  All the Deatheaters were now free, which meant Lucius was now free, did that mean that Draco would return to being the cold bastard he had been to Harry for the previous five years?

"What are they going to do about it?" Ron wondered, looking at the staff table.

"Snape'll probably whip on a mask and run around hexing us all," Seamus mused.

Harry continued to think and ran a hand through his hair distractedly.  "What do you think Voldemort's planning?" he asked.

"How are we meant to know?" Ron said, shuddering at the name. 

"Possibly taking them out for a birthday party," Dean suggested, tapping his quill against his lip.

Seamus snickered.  "Maybe Snape will try and blend in by dressing up like Neville's boggart."

Dean roared with laughter. "And batter the Aurors with his handbag."

"Shut up you two," Harry commanded.  "This is serious."  He unrolled the paper again and pointed to the picture.  "There's Lucius Malfoy - someone cut his hair off, leaving with Wormtail.  Where do you think they're going?"

"Home?" Ron suggested.

"I doubt they live in the same house, Ron," Harry drawled in an impressive imitation of Draco.  "And look at this."  He moved his hand to point at the part where it talked about Kingsley being killed.  "Why didn't he torture him for information?"

"I doubt they need it," Ron said thoughtfully. "What could he tell them that they'd need?"

Harry shrugged, "Dumbledore's plans?"

Ron shook his head. "I don't know."

Harry picked the paper up and stuffed it into his bag.  "I'm going back to my room, then to see Dumbledore."

"Alright..." Ron said, but Harry was already gone.

"What's the matter with _him_?" Seamus asked, staring after Harry.

"Dunno," Ron grunted. "Paranoia, probably."

"That or he's not getting enough," Seamus murmured, sniggering.

"Oh I don't know about that," Hermione put in, smirking.

"What are you saying?" Ron snapped, turning on Hermione.

"YOU KNOW SOMETHING!" Dean accused, pointing a finger at her in mockery of Ron.

Seamus just stared at Hermione with wide-eyes.  "You can tell us."

"Harry's got a b... partner," Hermione said loftily. "Other than that, it's none of your business."

"He HAS and we didn't KNOW?" Seamus all but shouted.

"Shhh!" Hermione urged, flapping her hand. "I wish I hadn't mentioned it."

Seamus nudged Dean discreetly, two words on his mind.  'Parvati and Lavender'.

'Both of them?' Dean frowned silently, catching Seamus' drift immediately.

Seamus shrugged.  'One'll tell the other anyway.'

'Lucky Harry,' Dean thought, scowling at the doors that had long since closed behind the boy.  Little did Dean and Seamus know, they were both talking about completely different things.

Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and walked down the hall to his room musing over the fact the Deatheaters were out of Azkaban, and Kingsley was dead.  Did Moody know? Did his appearance in Hogsmeade the other day mean anything?  Was Dumbledore mad? What exactly was Voldemort up to? Distractedly, Harry pushed the door open to find Draco already in his room.

"Morning," he greeted, dropping his bag to the floor.

"I have to go," Draco said immediately.

"Where?" Harry asked absently, walking further into his room so he could sit on the end of his bed.

"My father's out. I need to see him," Draco said. Indigo shadows hung below his eyes and his cheeks were hollow. His hair was lank around his face.

Harry frowned.  "You can't, wouldn't Deatheaters be swarming around him? And what about the Aurors out looking for him? If you got permission off Dumbledore to go, he'd know where your dad is.  Do _you_ even know where he is?" he asked.

"He'll be at home," Draco said. "And if you tell anyone that then I'll make sure you never tell anyone anything ever again." His sunken eyes and hollow cheeks made his gesture of zipping his mouth shut almost Frankenstein-like and frightening. "I've got to go to him."

Harry frowned, although he loved Draco, he couldn't seem to bring himself to trust Lucius, after being face-to-face with him in the Department of Mysteries.  "I don't know.  How would you get there?"

"Is this the Spanish Inquisition?" Draco demanded heatedly. "I'll make my own way there. If I get caught then you're better off without me." 

He began pacing across the room. "I'll be back by tomorrow."

Harry fell backwards onto his bed with a sigh.  "Be careful."

Draco seemed to ignore that. "When I get back, we'll nick some of Blaise's clothes and dress you up."

"You're leaving it a bit late aren't you?" Harry asked, pillowing his head on his hands and staring at the ceiling.

"What?"

"Well, coming back, getting Blaise's stuff then leaving again.  What if your dad wants you to stay with him?"

"I won't, and he won't," Draco assured Harry. He picked up his broom from behind the sofa. "I need to borrow your cloak. I can go without, but it would help. I won't let anything happen to it."

Harry hesitated before reaching over the side of the bed and pulling out the material that was the invisibility cloak.  He jumped off the bed and walked over to Draco, holding it out to him.  "You better take care with this," he said sternly, reluctant to part with it.

"I don't have to use it," Draco said, looking up at Harry out of lidded eyes. "Not if it bothers you." 

"I'd rather you be safe," Harry shrugged.  "Take it."

"I'll be back tomorrow lunch time at the very latest," Draco promised, hanging the cloak over his arm to take Harry's hands in his and kiss his lips softly. "I'm sorry."

He swung the cloak around his shoulders and vanished from site. His broomstick floated into mid air then disappeared. The window pushed up and then he was gone.

Harry let out a long sigh and sat on one of the armchairs.  Things suddenly seemed less interesting now Draco was gone, even if the Deatheaters had broken out of Azkaban.  He noticed the time and jumped out of his seat, grabbing his bag and running out of the door as fast as he could, sprinting to Herbology which he was already five minutes late for.__


	13. The Party

Play the Game

By Micro-chick and Morgana Malfoy

A/N: Lets get this party started.  Draco returns from his visit to the Manor in the middle of Potions class and seemingly pissed off beyond belief.  Draco and Blaise talk for a while, and Draco borrows some clothes for Harry.  Harry nearly faints when he's confronted by a Draco Malfoy in leather, and Alexei starts an interesting version of Strip Poker.

_Since when was love a game? Draco Malfoy does not play games.  Chess, cards, and quidditch are games.  Love doesn't have rules… right? Therefore it's not a game.  But why are both the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike no longer playing by the rules?_

Chapter Thirteen

The door slammed loudly as Draco stalked right through the centre of the class and dragged his chair back with a great screeching of wood on stone. He sat down heavily, dropping his broom beside him, and glared ahead, as though daring anyone to make anything of his interruption. He still wore his clothes from the day before, only splattered with mud. His hair was streaked with soot and dragged back from his face.

Severus Snape noted the arrival of his 'favourite student' with a slight wrinkling of the nose.  He pulled a vial of some smoking liquid out of his pocket and carried on his lecture to the class.  Had any other student been late, Harry was sure that they would have not got away so easily.

Harry leaned back in his chair and braced his hands on the desk so he could crane his neck back to see along the row and catch Draco's attention.

"Mr Potter," Snape drawled, and Harry slammed back onto the four legs of his chair.  "Kindly stop peering around the classroom and _pay attention_."  Harry nodded mutely.  "Now, there are many ways in which a concoction such as this can be useful in every day life..."

Draco continued to scowl mutinously, picking dirt from under his fingernails in sharp, jerky motions, hands resting on his stomach. He pushed his chair back and rested his left ankle on his right thigh, nostrils flared, brows knitted together and eyes fixed on the floor beyond his desk.

Blaise coughed and nudged Draco in the side when Snape had stopped looking at their half of the classroom and had began his usual round of 'torture the Gryffindors'.  "You ok?" he asked under his breath.

"Mm," Draco grunted, flicking his eyes around the room under his brows before returning his attention to his fingernails. "Yeah."

"Pansy mentioned that you'll need some of my clothes for tonight," Blaise said quietly, concentrating on scribbling something on a stray piece of parchment.

"Yeah, do you mind? Potty's not the most presentable type, and I plan to be able to leave him while I get shit-faced without having to worry that he'll get lonely."

Blaise smirked.  "No problem."

Snape finished his usual round on the Gryffindors and strode back to the front of the room where he began to address the class with what their assignment would be today.  500 words on how a potion could beat a wand.  Great.  Blaise stifled a yawn before turning to Draco, "You better cheer up before you go, or Alexei will have a fit."

"I'll make a vague attempt," Draco said, adjusting his tie. "I'll be happy once I get there. I'm a fast drinker. It won't take long."

Blaise laughed, and ceased his pointless scribbling as he began to work on the assignment.

Harry leaned backwards on his chair again and stared at the ceiling, doing a great impression of someone who was in deep thought.  He looked at Draco out of the corner of his eyes to see that although the boy had brought his broom in with him, the invisibility cloak was no where in sight.

Draco finished his nails and took out his wand, twirling it absently across his fingers. He tapped his quill into the ink and started to write with his left hand, arching it over the page so he didn't smudge what he had written. He glanced across and took aim at Harry's page, then snatched the scrap Blaise had been drawing on and turned it over. He released his spell at Harry's and tapped his own page before slipping his wand down the side of his boot.

**_The cloak's in my dormitory. I'll fetch it when I get some clothes for you._**

Harry, for the second time in so many minutes, slammed back onto four legs as writing began appearing on his page.  **_Cheers.  All go well then?_**

**_Piss off_**, Draco wrote rudely, slamming his quill down so hard on the full stop that his quill snapped and he had to repair it with his wand.

Harry frowned and, checking that Snape wasn't looking, shot a glare down the row at Draco.  **_We'll talk later._**

**_I'm sorry,_** Draco wrote once he was sure that the nib was fixed. **_I'm a little tetchy._**

**_I figured_**, Harry replied tensely, gripping the quill a little harder than was necessary as he began to write his Potions classwork.

**_Oh don't get pissy as well. I'll tell you about it later._**

Draco scratched his neck wearily, putting up his hand.

"Sir, I had to go to visit my mother, as I received an owl that my aunt - her sister - had died. She was very upset and I needed to comfort her. I haven't had time to change or anything since midday yesterday. May I be excused to wash, change and catch some sleep?" Draco asked in his best snob tone.

Snape nodded his head, "You are excused, Mr Malfoy."

Draco smiled flatly, slipping the parchment into his pocket and picking up his broom. "I'll catch up the work another time," he promised, walking out.

The corridors were satisfactorily empty as he made his way the short distance to the Slytherin dungeons. Shifting his broom onto his shoulder, Draco pushed the door open with a murmured password and made his way into the dorms. He threw his bags into a corner and wandered into the bathroom. He showered slowly, his mind running over what had happened.

_He had arrived at the Manor two hours after leaving Hogwarts to find it swarming with Deatheaters, the wards jacked up to full power. It had taken him a while to actually find the place, with the Mis-Location charm so strong. Draco wove his way through the busy Deatheaters, frowning and staring at them. They ignored him totally, so he pushed through the front door and looked around in shock. The house was empty. Every stick of furniture had been moved away, including the precious paintings and the expensive curtains. _

_Draco had eventually located his father in the main ballroom, covering the marble railings in bubble wrap. _

_"What's going on?" he had asked, noting his father's ragged appearance and short hair. _

_"Nothing," Lucius had answered unabashedly. "Welcome home."_

_"Welcome to you too," Draco said warily. "What's happening?"_

_"I'm getting the place fumigated," Lucius told him. "It's a good excuse to get certain items out of the house before the Weasel Squad arrive."_

_"Are they inspecting?" Draco asked curiously. _

_"Aren't they always?" Lucius replied, wrinkling his nose._

_"Come with me, we can talk in my study..."_

_He had led Draco upstairs, where they had discussed his term in Azkaban and his escape. Draco had picked up a few items from his room and been hurried out as though he were merely a nuisance. He had practically been given a little pat on the bottom to send him on his way. Smarting as though he had been slapped across the face, Draco had returned to Hogwarts, flying through the night and taking several detours. _

He toweled himself dry and dressed in his pyjamas, planning to sleep right through break, into Ancient Runes and wake up at lunch time. Draco fell back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, before drifting off into utter exhausted sleep.

Blaise Zabini slinked into the Slytherin Boys dorm at five-thirty, slipper-clad feet hardly making a sound as he crossed the room to Draco's bed and looked down at the peacefully sleeping boy.  "Draco," he called softly, shaking his shoulder.  "Wake up, it's nearly time for Alexei's party."

"Bollocks," Draco murmured in surprise as he woke up. "What time is it?"

"Getting ready to shag Potter time?" Blaise suggested, walking over to his bed and kicking his slippers off, swapping them for a pair of expensive black leather boots.  "Five-thirty."

"Christ," Draco snapped. "I slept for over seven hours." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, removing his pyjamas and pulling on some underwear before going through his cupboard.

"I didn't want to wake you," Blaise replied, standing up and pulling on a cloak.  "But if you're to go to this party and dress Potter in my clothes I thought you better be woken up soon."

"Thanks," Draco said, scratching his head. "What should I wear?"

"No clue," Blaise admitted.  "You'd be better off without my judgment anyway, you have a different style to me clothes-wise."

"Hmph," Draco said, biting his lip. He frowned as he pulled out a black silk shirt with silver dragons curling around the back and sides. They had tiny flakes of blue gemstone for eyes, which sparkled in the light. "Is this okay?" Draco asked, slipping it on and buttoning it up. He did not wait for a response before returning his attention to the contents of his wardrobe.

With a delighted laugh, he pulled out a black leather knee-length kilt. "I forgot I had this!"

"You're not going to wear _that_ are you?" Blaise asked, eyes wide.

"I could," Draco said reasonably, pulling the kilt on and belting it up. He posed, grinning.

Blaise shook his head, smiling.  "You're mad."

"No I'm not, I'm just confident in my own sexuality," Draco said, but nevertheless he took it off. "Should I just wear some jeans?" he asked. "Or these?" He held out a pair of leather trousers with a huge grin on his face.

"The trousers, let every girl in the Great Hall become envious," Blaise replied, falling back onto his bed to pick up his Arithmancy book.

Draco shrugged and pulled them on. "You might need to peel me like a carrot when I get back, though," he said, zipping up and raiding Blaise's drawer for a belt.

Having found a suitable one, Draco slid his own dragon buckle onto it and reached down to touch his toes, loosening the rather tight trousers with a pained expression.

"Do you still have that burgundy shirt?" he asked Blaise thoughtfully, swinging his legs back and forth.

"Give me a second," Blaise said, rolling on to his front and pulling a box out from under his bed.  He put it on his bed and flicked the lid off with a tanned finger, taking the folded shirt out carefully.  "Still not worn it."

Draco rolled his eyes. "It's really great, why the hell... never mind. Can I borrow it for Potty? I'll replace it exactly if anything happens to it."

Blaise laughed, throwing it across the room to Draco.  "Potty? And to answer your earlier question, red's not my colour."

"Hmm, alright," Draco said, laying it on his bed. "You're the same height as Potty. I don't think any of my trousers would be long enough for him. What do you think he should wear? Black?"

"I have an old pair of black jeans around here somewhere, ripped at the knees."  Blaise rolled off his bed and began rooting through the trunk at the foot of his bed for said jeans, finally coming up triumphant with the jet-black jeans, artistically ripped on the knees and one of the back pockets.  "These do?" he asked.

"Beautiful," Draco beamed, snatching them up and slinging them over his arm. He snatched his long trench coat from the stand by the door and waved goodbye to Blaise, heading for Harry's room.

As Blaise had suggested, girls stopped to stare after him in the hallways. Draco grinned, feeling much better than he had in weeks. He rapped his knuckles on Harry's bedroom door, flicking some hair behind his ear.

Harry stretched his arms above his head as he walked over to the door, wondering who it could possibly be at this time.  "Hello," he greeted as he opened the door and froze, eyes taking in exactly what he was seeing.  Draco Malfoy, in leather pants.  Draco Malfoy in _leather pants_.  Harry's brain didn't seem to be able to register any other words than, 'Yum.'

"I brought clothes," Draco said, extending his arms. "Can I come in?"

Harry opened his mouth then shut it, then opened it again.  "Yeah..." he said slowly, stepping away from the door to allow Draco room to walk in.

Draco smiled, stepping in and shutting the door behind him.

"Blaise dug these out" - he held out the ripped jeans - "and this has never been worn." He handed Harry the shirt and walked over to the window, presenting Harry with an admirable view of his leather-clad behind.

Harry managed to close his mouth as he took the shirt and jeans off Draco, turning to walk into the bathroom and change.  "I've already ate," he called out, once he had regained his composure - no longer being faced with the Malfoy in leather.  "It would have looked strange had we both walked in, dressed up for what looks like a party."

"I don't want anything to eat," Draco called. "I'm looking to be sick as a dog by the end of this, and the emptier your stomach, the faster you get pissed."

"Ok, and why are you telling me this _now_?" Harry asked as he emerged from the Bathroom, fully changed.

"You'll manage," Draco grinned, walked over to him and sliding his hand across Harry's arse, slipping a finger into the hole in the back pocket.

"You know," Harry murmured, his arms wrapping around Draco's waist, "Leather _really _suits you."

"Yep," Draco said modestly. "I was going to wear a kilt, but Blaise said I shouldn't." He looked a little sullen. Looking up, Draco frowned. "Comb, hair, now."

Twisting away from Draco, Harry opened the "knicker-drawer" and pulled out a comb, looking at it blankly, and sending a pleading look to Draco.

Draco snatched it, running it under the tap in the bathroom and combing Harry's hair. "Have you got a coat?" he asked, pulling bits of his fringe out. "And put some contacts in."

Draco dropped the comb back onto Harry's bedside table. "If you wear glasses, they'll get smashed."

Rooting around, Harry came up triumphant with a pair of contacts and walked over to the mirror to put them in.  "Where are we going anyway?"

"London," Draco answered helpfully, putting his hands in his pockets.

Harry rolled his eyes, and pulled a plain black overcoat out of his wardrobe.  "Train from Hogsmeade?" he asked.

"Yeah," Draco nodded. "It'll be leaving soon, so we'd better hurry. Pansy and a few others are going, so if you've got a hood, put it up."

Harry did as asked, and pulled up his hood.  "We're going to sit with them?" he asked, walking over to Draco and grabbing the key to his room off the table.

"No," Draco answered, frowning. "This train doesn't realise it goes through Hogsmeade. Alexei's lot diverts it to pick us up. We have to spread out through the carriages so people don't notice that we just popped out of nowhere. I don't get it, but we'll sit somewhere else. Come on."

He grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him out of the door, down the corridor and out of the school into the dark.

"This Alexei sounds like a great guy," Harry commented, putting his free hand into his pocket and glancing back at the school momentarily, seeing a strange figure in one of the windows looking at them before there was a glint off the persons, what looked like, watch and the light turned off.

"He's brilliant. You'll love him," Draco assured Harry, eyes scraping the path for obstructions. "And he'll like you too, I reckon."

Harry turned back to look the way they were going and idly counted how many steps they were taking.  "Is it his club?"

"Yeah," Draco answered, blinking as they moved out into the lights of the station. "It's a part of his house, but he opens it up every few months for huge parties."

"How old is he anyway?" Harry asked, mentally keeping track of the numbers.  '4..5..6'

"Oh, nineteen. It's his party," Draco answered.

'9..10..11'  "Does he look anything like you?" Harry wondered, trying to picture the elusive Alexei in his mind.

"Not really. He's German, floppy sandy hair, dirty look in his eye, good sense of humour..."

"Distant relative?" '13..14..15'

"No, not as far as I know, but he's Pureblood, so he might be."

There was silence as the two boys entered the station and Harry looked around, immediately noticing Mullicent Bulstrode and ducking his head so she could not see him.  '20 steps to hell?' he wondered.

Draco stormed towards the huge doors, coat flaring out behind him. He flashed his invitation at the bouncer and pointed at Harry wordlessly. The huge man nodded and waved them in. Draco waited without turning for Harry, nostrils flared and a scowl painted across his face.

Harry frowned as he followed Draco to the entrance and stood warily a few steps away.  Everything had been going fine until Harry had asked Draco about his visit to the Manor, and why he had returned looking so pissed, a conversation that Harry now realised, he could have done without starting.

"Are you coming?" Draco snapped, casting a glance over his shoulder at Harry. "I need to introduce you to everyone."

Harry made a sound of murmured agreement as he followed Draco into the building and pulled his hood down warily.

Draco reached out a hand to a tall boy in a white shirt.

"Alexei," he greeted.

"Draco!" The man grinned, turning away from the half-dressed woman he was with to throw an arm around his friend.  "I vas starting to think you wouldn't make it.  Und I'm presuming this is the one und only Harry Potter?"

Harry nodded mutely, casting glances around the room.  "Nice to finally meet you, Alexei."

"He's been plaguing me with questions," Draco said flatly. "Is the bar still where it was last time? I feel the need to be pissed."

Alexei raised and eyebrow and waved a man over in a suit.  "Let Wolf take your coats.  You can get pissed over there as usual Draco, Lutz is on the bar this year."

Alexei leaned in to talk to the woman he was with, smirking.  "I'm afraid I have to be going for a while, bring Harry up to date on the who's who front, Draco.  I'll be up on the balcony later if you vant me."  Placing one hand on the woman's arse, they walked further into the crowd.

"Balcony?" Harry asked Draco, handing his coat to Wolf.

Draco pointed at a balcony over the dance floor that provided a view of the entire room. "He goes up there and gets the pick of the company," Draco explained, appearing to have calmed slightly as he handed his coat to Wolf. "Coming?" he asked Harry.

"Yeah," Harry replied, slipping between two people to follow Draco to the bar.

Draco slipped a hand around Harry's waist as they continued, nodding to various people and getting waylaid by several. He kissed three girls in turn for about two minutes whilst Harry stood watching. "Old friends," Draco shrugged it off, hooking his thumb in the waistband of Harry's jeans.

Harry tried to not look fazed as it became apparent that most of the girls here had obviously, already had Draco before him.  As they arrived at the bar, Harry felt someone tug at the sleeve of his shirt and turned to face a girl with such a striking resemblance to Cho Chang it was unnerving.

"Hey," she said in a lilting drawl. "You are dancing with someone?"

Harry, feeling backed into a corner, shook his head as another girl joined the first.  "No."

"You like dancing?" the next girl pressed, shooting a glance at her friend.

Harry shrugged, thinking of how Draco had been on the train. "You asking?"

The girls laughed excitedly. "We teach you anything you need to know," the first insisted. "I Zara, this Zenzi. You?"

"Harry," he said, looking the girls up and down.  "Potter," he added for clarification.

Zenzi and Zara gasped, one wrapping an arm around his waist and the other around his arse. They led him away from the bar and onto the dance floor, watched by Draco's stormy grey eyes.

The young Malfoy turned away with a snort. It was, after all, what he had intended, but he was far from happy about it.

"Whatever will get me pissed fastest and most painlessly, in a double helping," Draco ordered of the barman.

Lutz smirked, and placed the glass he was holding down on the bar, turning to grab some bottles.  "Where's Blaise?" he asked, pouring various liquids into the glass, turning it blood red, then yellow, then silver, finally setting on dark green.

"He can't come," Draco answered, catching the glass as it was slid along the bar to him and taking a breath before downing it in one. He kept his eyes screwed shut for a moment before exhaling slowly. "Wow, strong stuff. His parents said that he needs... I don't remember, but he can't come. Can I have another, please?"

"Another coming up," Lutz replied, sliding a few glasses down the other end of the bar then one across to Draco.

Draco caught it and cleared his throat of the burning from the previous shot before downing that one. He breathed out sharply and shook his head, alcohol burning in his nostrils and at the very back of his throat.

It struck him that he felt rejected - both by Harry, who was meant to stick by him regardless of how mean he was, and by his father. Lucius had barely told him anything of what was going on. Draco turned slightly to see Harry sandwiched between Zenzi and Zara and turned back in disgust.

Two hands landed lightly on his shoulders, and began to massage them gently.  Breath caressed his neck as someone leant forward to whisper in his ear, "Long time no see, Draco."

"Long time no sexual proclivities," Draco said softly, in a voice made richer by the alcohol. "Are my sexual impulses deceiving me, or is it Mitzi?"

There was a laugh, and the hands on his shoulders moved to circle his neck.  "Who else?" she asked playfully, her long dark hair brushing the back of his neck and cheek.

"Well, well, well," Draco purred, turning in his chair to face Mitzi within her arms. "I'd say that I never thought I'd see you here, but that's an outright lie. How are you, beautiful?"

Mitzi pursed her lips and moved to sit in Draco's lap, playing with the soft hair at the base of his neck.  "Lonely," she decided, looking at him from under dark eyelashes.

Draco pulled her close to him. "Ever heard of Harry Potter?" he asked, almost rhetorically, tongue fluttering along her neck.

Mitzi turned her head to the side, allowing Draco more skin.  "Hm, he is that boy you hate, right?" she asked.

"He's that boy who's my guest tonight," Draco corrected, nipping her skin softly. "Want to meet him?" Perfect excuse to rip him away from those two sluts.

Mitzi pouted, flicking some hair away from her face with an elegant dark purple nail.  "Can't I have you all to myself?" she asked with a grin, showing all of her pearly white teeth.

"Hmm," Draco considered it. "No, as I did bring him here." He snatched another of the dark green drinks from behind him and poured it down his throat. "Come and meet him," he wheedled, sliding a cool hand up inside Mitzi's rather minimal black top.

"You're no fun," Mitzi moaned, leaning in to kiss Draco's eyelashes before sliding off him and leaning on the bar, waving Lutz over with her hand.

"I'll go by myself then," Draco teased, walking off towards the dance floor.

Quickly downing a clear liquid of some sort and shaking her head, Mitzi sidled up beside Draco.  "I'm not letting you get away that easily," she replied, tracing one of the dragons on his shirt as they walked.

"Alright," Draco shrugged, draping an arm around her shoulders. He wove through the crowds of people dancing under the surreal strobe lights, following some internal instinct. He eventually came up behind Harry and reached a hand around his abdomen, resting it on his groin.

"Can I borrow you?" he murmured into Harry's ear.

Harry flinched, not expecting someone to appear out of no where, especially not Draco.  Harry wasn't sure whether he was happy with Draco at the moment, after having to endure Draco first pushing him away when they arrived, then kissing three people other than him straight after. 

He turned his head slightly to the side to reply, "Depends."

"On what?" Draco continued seductively, removing his arm from around Mitzi's shoulders and also wrapping it around Harry's stomach, slipping his fingers under the waistband of Harry's pants.

Harry smiled, half-closing his eyes.  "On whether you can show these two I'm not interested," he replied, voice too low for Zara and Zenzi to hear.

Mitzi frowned, flicking her hair and resisting the urge to place her hands on her hips.  "Draco," she reminded him.  "You've got to introduce me."

Draco nodded absently to Mitzi, leaning forwards over Harry's shoulders so that his hand slid deeper into Harry's pants.

"Girls, I'll make it up to you later," he told the surprised Zara and Zenzi. "I need to borrow him just now."

The two girls pouted, but relinquished their grip on Harry. "We hold you to that," Zenzi promised Draco ominously.

"Depends on what you hold," Draco grinned. He turned Harry around to face Mitzi. "Mitzi, Harry, Harry, Mitzi."

Mitzi looked Harry up and down thoughtfully, and tapped one of her purple fingernails against her lip before pulling Harry to her and crushing their lips together.

Harry froze, having never kissed anyone properly but Draco in a long while, he was at a bit of a loss until Mitzi released him with a laugh.

"I like him," she decided, turning back to Draco.

Draco laughed, clapping Harry on the back and kissing Mitzi's forehead.

"I knew you would," he said, tongue playing with Harry's earlobe. "I'm sorry I was mean earlier," he said in an imploring tone, batting his lashes.

Harry wavered, still slightly taken aback by this Mitzi girl.  He reached behind him, knowing exactly where Draco would be, and slipping a hand under Draco's shirt, using the same hand to bring Draco around from behind him.

Mitzi watched the whole interaction with interest, before craning her neck to look up at the balcony.  "I think Alexei's back," she said over the roar of the dancers as they noticed also.

"Good," Draco grinned. "I want to talk to him. Coming, you two?" he asked, one hand caressing the inside of Harry's hipbone.

"Of course," Mitzi replied, dropping her gaze to look at Draco and Harry.  "Can I talk to you later though, Draco?" she asked.

Harry looked up at the balcony, moving his arm around Draco's waist but keeping it under the shirt, to pull Draco against him.  "We didn't see much of him earlier," he murmured to Draco.  "Too _busy_."

"Of course you can," Draco said graciously. "_Busy_, Harry?" he inquired, eyes sparkling.

Harry smirked, looking at the balcony and Alexei who had his arms around three different girls, another with her arms around his neck.  "_Very_ busy," he confirmed.

"He usually is," Draco conceded. "You just have to ignore them. He usually does."

"Estavan!" Mitzi exclaimed, before suddenly diving into a crowd of dancers.  She re-appeared a few minutes later, dragging a dark lad with dreadlocks behind her by the front of his shirt.  "Look who I found."

"Staf!" Draco exclaimed, tugging on the boy's dreadlocks.

"Nah," Estavan discouraged, detaching his hand. "Don't pull dem."

Draco let go, grinning. "How are you?"

"Good," Estavan said descriptively. "Dis is?" He pointed a joint hanging from between his fingers at Harry.

"Harry," Draco introduced him. "This is Estavan."

"Hey," Harry greeted, glancing at the joint then at the guy Draco who had just introduced.  He looked a lot older than them both, possibly Alexei's age, maybe older.

Running his fingers up and down Draco's side, Harry followed Mitzi and Estavan up to the balcony.

"Having fun so far?" Draco asked Harry as Estavan put the joint between Mitzi's lips with a low laugh.  Mitzi rolled her eyes and took a drag before taking it out to waggle her tongue at Estavan.

"Anything's better than being sat in the Common Room with a chess tournament going on," Harry replied with a grin, blowing some hair out of his eyes, "Having you here as well is an added bonus."

"You wouldn't _be_ here without me," Draco reminded him, jabbing him in the ribs.

Harry tried his best to dodge the blow.  "Though you almost did a good job of getting rid of me before," he pointed out.

"I was being childish," Draco mumbled, looking down at his feet before tipping his head back.

Harry shrugged, tucking his hand neatly in the top of Draco's leather pants.  "I'm still here aren't I?"

"Yes," Draco smiled, looking self-congratulatory as they wound their way up a white staircase that led to the balcony.

"Alexei!" Mitzi grinned, tackling the startled nineteen-year-old and forcing him to fall backwards onto a red leather sofa.  "Do stop being_ busy_ so much."

"Vat?" he asked, "Even with you?"

Mitzi giggled, moving to sit more comfortably in his lap as the other three made it up the stairs.  "I'm the exception."

"Ah, but of course." Alexei nodded at Draco, Harry and Estavan in turn.  "Lovely you could join me."

"Yah," Estavan drawled, draping himself across a sofa covered with black fur. Several girls piled themselves up beside him immediately. He grinned lazily.

"Are you too busy to talk?" Draco grinned, leaning against the fur-draped rails around the balcony.

"Not pissed enough yet," Alexei replied modestly, taking a glass of a fizzing blue and white drink off a girl sat next to him and downing it in one.

Harry laughed and joined Draco at the rails.  "Being pissed makes everything better."

Alexei raised an eyebrow and looked up from kissing Mitzi's hairline.  "It's the morning after you have to watch," he replied with a laugh, running his hands through Mitzi's hair.

"Some in more ways dan udders," Estavan put in.

"Well, depends on your preferences," Draco said reasonably. "Sometimes all you have to worry about is the hangover." He slid his arm around Harry's waist demonstratively.

Mitzi giggled as Alexei's hands began playing with the straps on the back of her low-cut tank top.  "It's so much harder being a woman; we have to be _careful_ when we get pissed."

"Das never stopped you before," Alexei murmured knowledgably.

"No," Draco agreed. "I guess we get off easy."

He suddenly smiled, a sparkle coming into his eyes. He turned to Harry, putting his lips to his ear.

"Remember what I said about wanting to get pissed and do various things to you that aren't mentioned in polite society?" he asked in a low voice, smirking.

"Finally going to walk the walk?" Harry asked, turning his head slightly to the side, Draco's hair brushing his cheek.

"I'm very pissed," Draco confessed. "I think I just drank most of a bottle of vodka with extra added green dye." He rested his forehead against Harry's, looking up into his eyes playfully. "How about you?"

Harry raised his hands apologetically, palms face up.  "Completely sober," he admitted.

"I thought Draco vas going to be yours this year," Alexei said in an undertone to Mitzi, nipping at her neck.

"Me too, but from the moment he walked in he's been taken," she replied, glancing over at Draco and Harry talking.  "I wouldn't have believed it had I not seen it."

"Ja," Alexei agreed, his hands moving lower to rest on Mitzi's waist.

Draco held onto Harry's shirt, laying his head against his chest and closing his eyes reluctantly.

"Ar-leck-_see_," Estavan drawled, lifting his head up from the sofa. "Are we havin' deh card tournaments?"

Alexei glanced up and over at Estavan.  "Ja.  Go get Wolf and send Rafe up with the drinks.  Draco would like some time with Harry at the bar, so take your time." Nodding to Draco, Alexei returned to Mitzi.

Draco smiled gratefully, his tongue grazing Harry's lips.

"You won't enjoy these games unless you're pissed," he warned him. "Come on."

He tugged on Harry's arm, leading him back down towards the bar. "Hey Lutz, can I have three of those green things?"

"Maribellas?" Lutz questioned, flipping two bottles up behind his back, shooting the lids off with his wand and placing them on the bar for someone else.  "Sure, two Maribellas for Draco and his friend."

His made said drinks and shot them along the counter to Draco and Harry.

Warily, Harry lifted the glass to his lips, Draco's earlier words stuck in his mind.  Just what kind of games were they going to play? Well, if he were to enjoy them... he drowned the drink in one go, and closed his eyes for a few seconds as it burnt a trail of fire down his throat.  He exhaled with a grin, "I can see why you like these."

"I thought you would," Draco smiled, watching Harry lasciviously. "Drink up, don't want to miss the games."

"Draaaa-ko," Estavan called.

Harry snickered, finishing his second Maribella.  "I think he's stoned," he said, a slight slur in his voice though not very noticeably.

"He's always stoned," Draco said scornfully. "Great guy."

Harry laughed, finishing half of his third glass.  "What kind of games, anyway?" he asked Draco.

"Strip poker, a modified form of spin the bottle... Lots of things. I don't usually remember by the end."

"You're right," Harry confirmed.  "I'd have to be pissed."

"You should be by now," Draco smiled, removing the glass and draining it. "Let's go."

Harry stood up, wrapping his arms around Draco from behind.  "After you."

Draco grinned as they made their way back through the crowds. The music rumbled in his stomach and the lights skittered over them both.

"Are you OK with this?" he asked Harry loudly over the music and the roar of the crowd.

"If I'm not I'll tell you," Harry replied, leaning in to Draco to be heard.  He put his hands in Draco's front pockets and rested his chin on his shoulder.

"And you haven't mentioned it yet," Draco nodded, walking up onto the balcony. The steps were swimming under his feet.

Alexei was stood in the middle of the balcony, directing people around with a cigarette between his lips.  "Hallo Draco, Harry," he greeted.  "Ready?"

Mitzi had drifted off and was sat next to a new person, arms folded around her waist and legs crossed.

"Ready as we'll ever be," Draco answered.

"Draco," Rafe greeted. He had long dark red hair with a couple of strips hanging over his eyes. A tiny goatee covered his chin, and he had a ring with a plectrum dangling from it hanging from his left ear.

"Hey Rafe!" Draco grinned. "Haven't seen you in months."

"Hey," Harry greeted, taking an arm from around Draco to wave at Rafe.

"You're Harry Potter," Rafe said in a gruff voice, a ring through his bottom lip catching the light.

"And you're a guy I've never met before," Harry replied, taking his other arm from around Draco so he could lean on the rail.

Rafe grinned, rising languidly to his feet. He was tall and lean and incredibly attractive.

"Cool scar," he complimented in his rough voice. "Rafe Jennings." He extended his right hand, weighed down with rings, brightly coloured bracelets and doodles.

Harry shook his hand, studying Rafe's face with a little more interest than he showed other people.  "Nice lip ring.  Get in the way much?" he asked.

"I'm more with the fingers," Rafe explained. He flicked the plectrum hanging from his ear. "I got used to it."

"I guess if you wanted to you could work around it," Harry replied with a grin.

"Finally," Alexei drawled as everything was set up and he draped himself into a seat on one side of the table.

"I frequently do," Rafe murmured, taking a seat and pulling out the one next to it for Harry. Draco took the chair on the other side of that and Wolf sat beside Estavan. Out of the girls, only Mitzi joined them.

"What do we play first?" Draco asked, watching Wolf's long, pale hands as he shuffled the cards expertly so that the edges did not catch to give any indication of which card it was.

"Vingt-et-un," Alexei replied, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and flicking it over the railing without much care as to whether it hit someone.  "Mitzi, bring Potter up to date."

Mitzi grinned, brushing her hair away from her face.  "In English, twenty-one.  Everyone's dealt two cards, and then we go around the group, everyone picking up a card till someone goes bust or gets 21.  If you get 21, you get to pick someone to lose an item of clothing, and which item.  If you go bust, you have to lose an item for each point you go over 21.  Ace counts as 1 or 11, you get to choose, and kings, queens and jacks are 10s."

Rafe grinned, leaning back and stretching his long legs out in front of him under the table. "Load us up, Wolf."

Wolf, almost always silent, looked up, the light casting shadows beneath his eyes. He dealt two cards to each person so fast that his hands seemed to blur. He sat back.

"I will watch you all and check the rules," he said in a deep, rusty voice. "Everyone knows the rules."

Draco, Rafe and Estavan all nodded. Estavan stubbed out his joint and threw it over the railing, sitting forwards. Draco ran his hands back through his hair.

"You understand, Harry?" he checked in an undertone.

Harry nodded silently, glancing between all the people sat at the table, a little nervous and the alcohol being the only thing keeping him here.

Mitzi leaned forward, placing a hand on her cards.  "Say we can pick them up already, Wolf, I'm getting bored."

"Okay, pick up," Wolf commanded, shuffling the cards he held in his hand.

Draco glanced over his cards. "Twist," he said to Wolf. He took the card and looked over his new hand. "OK, stick."

Harry flipped his cards up, making sure no one could see them.  A five and a two, nothing interesting.  "Twist," he said, taking the card, and adding up mentally.  "Twist," he said again, taking the fourth card and keeping his face impassive.  "Yeah, stick."

Rafe took one glance at his cards and laid them face down on the table. "Kiss my ass," he smiled to Wolf, fiddling with his plectrum.

Wolf smiled flatly. "Okay, so you stick. Mitzi."

"Twist," she replied, tapping the table with her nail.  "And... woah... stick."

"Alright," Wolf shrugged. "Alexei..." He shuffled the cards in his hands elegantly.

Alexei stretched his legs out in front of him, leaving the cards face down at the table and not looking at them.  "Twist."  As Wolf threw the card onto his others Alexei smirked, still not looking at them.  "Twist me twice more," he grinned, raising an eyebrow. Once this was done he cracked his jaw.  "Stick."

"Alexei plays by instinct," Draco whispered to Harry. "He usually wins, but it's helped by the fact that he enjoys the boobie prizes."

"Stick, man," Estavan said, shaking his head.

"Turn your cards over," Wolf commanded imperiously, looking around. Draco turned his to show two fives and a King.

Harry and Mitzi turned theirs over simultaneously to reveal a five and a queen on Mitzi's side, and a two, a five, another five and a six on Harry's.

Estavan revealed an ace and a ten as Rafe showed two queens.

"Alexei?" Wolf asked, looking around at the cards.

Alexei flicked his cards over with his thumb and forefinger.  "Five card trick, can't beat it."

Harry watched in awe as the cards were turned over, a five, a four, a four, a six and a two.  "Woah," he breathed so only Draco could hear.

"Told you he was good," Draco said a bit resentfully.

Rafe laughed, a soft throaty chuckle. "So who are you stripping mentally, Lex? Share it."

Alexei chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.  "All too obvious.  Mitzi, darling, lose das top."

Mitzi placed her cards on the table then reached behind her for the straps on her top, undoing them slowly and never taking her eyes off Alexei as she did so.  Finally, the final strap came undone and she pulled it over her head revealing a black silk bra.  She grinned up at Alexei coyly, "The top is so small you see the same with and without."

"True," Rafe said, sliding a hand up inside the back of her bra. "But it's more fun this way."

Wolf gathered all their cards together and dealt again. This time, Draco twisted twice before spreading his cards out despairingly.

"Bust," he mumbled.

"Well that is one of the quickest games in history," Alexei mocked lightly, sliding his cards across to Wolf.

Harry grinned.  "Hey, I need a drink if I'm to stay here," he said, looking around absently.

"No worries, Harry," Mitzi smiled, tapping a man on the shoulder.  "Damien, go get us some drinks while we watch Draco lose something."

Draco stood up. "What first?" he asked the group. "Highest scorer picks."

"Not me," Alexei shrugged.  "I had a measly total of elf."

"Fourteen," Harry added his own score and leaned back in his chair to get a better view of Draco.

"Sixteen, if I use my ace as an eleven," Mitzi added her own score, playing absently with the fabric on her skirt.

"Nineteen," Rafe murmured.

"Six," Estavan beamed, taking a drink from a tray.

"So that would be Rafe, then?" Draco surmised.

"Fun," Mitzi decided, taking a wine glass filled with a dark purple liquid to match her nails.

"Alright Rafe, what'll it be?" Draco asked, tossing his hair back.

"I don't mind, what does everyone else think?" Rafe asked, looking around them all, his lip ring glinting. "Shirt?"

Harry nodded, as did Alexei, before reaching for another Maribella off a tray. 

Draco grabbed one and downed it, plonking the glass down and unbuttoning his shirt slowly. He slung it over the back of his chair and flexed his back before sitting down again.

"Very nice," Rafe congratulated him, looking him up and down. "I like the shirt, too, though."

Wolf dealt again. Draco stuck this time, looking at his cards closely.

Harry scratched his chin, deciding to stick also and placing his cards face down on the table, taking another drink.

"Harry, you'll drink yourself under de table," Estavan grinned.

"Don't stop him," Rafe laughed. "Twist." Wolf handed him an eight and he grimaced. "Stick."

Harry laughed, "Who cares? I'm the luckiest sod at Hogwarts, I have my own room and am excused from lessons.  Two years of having to do jack all."

"Twist me," Mitzi said, reaching for the card.  Alexei grinned and caught Mitzi's eye.  "I'd stick if I were you," he said, right as she opened her mouth to say twist.

"How do I know I can trust you," she said suspiciously.

Alexei shrugged.  "You can't."

Mitzi frowned.  "Twist."  The card came sliding across the table and she groaned.  "Bust."

Draco laughed victoriously. Rafe gave a confident grin and removed his hand from beneath her bra.

"Keep going for the best score," Wolf insisted.

"Twist," Alexei asked, as Mitzi sulked in her chair.  "Und, stick.  Stef, you're the last one."

Estavan looked at his cards doubtfully. "De numbers look de same. I stick incase dey are tens."

"Must be a new record," Mitzi announced, checking her watch.  "Normally takes you longer to lose your vision, Stef."

"You don't know where I were before dis," Stef grinned. "For all you know, I could have been lickin' de ass of a cat." He paused. "As it is, I was smokin' dope."

"You always are," Alexei replied with a laugh.

"Almost always," Stef conceded. "But den, you are always fucking your brains out. I'd radder smoke dem. Takes less energy."

"Turn your cards over," Wolf said with a hint of a grin.

Harry grinned, flicking his cards over, a five and a ten.  "Come on... I wanna see who gets Mitzi."

Draco turned over two nines. "This should be fun."

Rafe grinned, flicking his plectrum idly. "Nineteen," he announced, turning his cards over. "But then most of us have seen all of her anyway." He flicked Mitzi's chin playfully.

Mitzi bit the air next to Rafe's finger playfully.  "Most, but not all," she reminded him.

Alexei pushed his cards over to reveal a ten, a ten and a four.  He glanced up calmly and shrugged.  "You win some you lose some."

"Both of them, then?" Draco grinned, scratching his chest absently, the key on the chain swinging.

"More fun that way," Alexei grinned, standing up and pulling Mitzi with him.

"Woohoo," Rafe grinned. "I vote Mitzi takes off her skirt and Alexei takes off his trousers."

"I second dose motions," Stef grinned lazily.

"Ah, but Lex is wearing a belt," Draco pointed out, taking another drink. "He can't take the trousers off without taking that off first."

"How about," Alexei offered, "I take the belt and trousers, so Mitzi doesn't lose anything?"

"That's honourable," Rafe nodded. "Who thinks it's a good idea?"

"Me!" Mitzi yelled, hugging herself.

Harry shrugged and downed another drink.  "Throw in another Maribella and you get my vote."

Draco passed one across to Harry.

"And I thought Gryffindorks couldn't hold their drink. I reckon Lex could do both and not show us anything we haven't seen before. If he's up for it, then it's fine with me. Wolf's the expert, though."

Wolf frowned. "Typically, whoever's more bust loses. Alexei's three over and Mitzi's four over, but if Alexei wants to take two off then that's fine."

Alexei grinned, pulling Mitzi to him with one hand to kiss her, and using the other to pull out his belt.  "You owe me."

Mitzi grinned, pecking him on the nose before sitting down to watch him unzip and kick off his pants to reveal another pair, this one in white.  "After last year, I decided to wear two pants," he explained with a smirk.

"Cheat," Draco groaned.

Alexei shrugged and sat back down elegantly.  "I promise there are no other tricks like this."

Wolf dealt out another hand contentedly.

"So how's your band?" Draco asked Rafe as he picked up his cards.

"It's going well. We're playing a load of Muggle venues to get our name in the books, but it's not bad," Rafe answered. He picked up his cards. "Oh well," he shrugged.

Harry picked up his cards and stared at them boredly, leaning his head on his hand.  He picked up another glass of some unknown liquid and downed it in one, coughing slightly afterwards.   His eyes began to droop and the conversation around him became muted, like an annoying fly buzzing around, one of those flies you couldn't see but desperately wanted to squash.  'I have a king and an ace.' His brain managed to register before his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

It really is annoying, Harry decided, when you wake up freezing cold and half on - half off a chair.  His eyelids fluttered open and emerald green eyes darted around, widening when they saw why he was so cold.  Harry Potter was sat butt-naked in the chair he had fell asleep on, save for his - Blaise's - jeans which Rafe was in the process of unzipping.  "Hey!" he mumbled, in a slightly croaky voice.  "What the fuck?"

"You were losing," Draco answered with a smile, ruffling Harry's hair. "You went bust on every round, somehow."

Rafe grinned and tugged Harry's jeans down. "It's only fair," he laughed.

Harry scowled, wrapping a hand into his jeans to pull them back up.  "No fair," he pouted.  "I may be the Boy-Who-Lived, but I can't play cards in my sleep."

"It's your fault for drinking yourself under," Draco grinned. His grey eyes were very, very bright, almost sky blue. "Lightweight," he accused.

"Estavan's passed out," Rafe supplied. He seemed to be basically sober. His plectrum earring swung back and forth as he shook his head. "Keep your pants, man, but you're not allowed to put your clothes back on. It's the rules."

Rafe himself was down to his T-shirt and long boots. Draco was now just in his boxers and Estavan was completely naked, eyes crossed and lidded, a spliff dangling from his fingers.

There was no sign of Alexei or Mitzi anywhere, just a pair of white pants, two shirts and a belt.

Harry yawned, his jaw cracking.  "How long was I out?" he asked, resisting the urge to throw something at Estavan to see if he was alive.

"Ten minutes or so," Draco answered. "My watch seems to be spinning pretty fast, so I can't say for sure."

"You played cards for that long? Hell that must have been boring," Harry grinned, scratching his chest absently.

"Not when it involved removing your clothes indiscriminately," Draco answered, standing and straddling Harry's lap. He bent his head and licked up the centre of Harry's chest. "That was amusing."

Harry's grin widened slightly.  "Would've been more fun if I was awake," he replied playfully, bending his head to nibble at Draco's earlobe.

"Nah, I'm kinky like that," Draco grinned, shivering. "Come on, I feel like dancing... Or at least doing _something_ on the dancefloor." He stood up, grabbing Rafe and Harry's hands.

Rafe tugged his hand away. "I'm going to find Zen... whatsit. You guys have your fun."

Picking up a guitar from under the table, he wandered off into the shadows outside the pool of light.

Slipping one hand into the waistband of Draco's boxers, Harry pulled the Malfoy boy closer to him.  "I _really_ don't want to sleep again.  What were you saying about those awakening Potions?" he asked, his other hand moving to Draco's waist.

"Was I saying anything about them?" Draco asked, speaking fast. "I don't remember. Christ you're gorgeous."

Ramming his hands into Harry's hair and gripping tightly, he pulled the boy against him and kissed him furiously, teeth clashing against Harry's.

Harry laughed against Draco's mouth, twisting his tongue around the other boys.  He moved the hand on Draco's chest to run through the soft as spiders-silk hair.

"I love the effect alcohol has on you," Draco purred, pushing Harry forcefully back onto a sofa.

"Me too," Harry decided, pulling Draco down on top of him, and meeting his lips once more.  "Shame I can't get pissed every night."

"You can," Draco frowned, holding himself up on his elbows.

Harry shook his head.  "Wouldn't be as fun when I do."

"I suppose," Draco conceded. "Come with me," he insisted, rolling to his feet and dragging Harry after him down the stairs.

The lower part of the huge room was crowded, hot, muggy and noisy. The music rumbled through the floor and shook in Draco's stomach. People jostled past them. Some were totally naked already. Draco pulled Harry right into the centre, sliding his hand right down the back of Harry's underpants and groping his arse happily.

Harry, initially startled, leaned in to Draco, wrapping one arm around his waist, and moving the other to the back of Draco's neck.

"How many of these parties are they?" he asked, the thought occurring to him that this might be the only party he could go with Draco to.

"If we join the circle, there's one every couple of months," Draco answered in a muffled voice, his other hand creeping across Harry's bare stomach.

Harry moved his head to nuzzle Draco's neck, grazing a certain spot with his teeth.  "What do we have to do to get into the circle?"

"We just keep coming to parties... There are favours involved," Draco purred, one finger following the line of hairs down from Harry's belly button and under his waistband. "We can manage it. Lex'll give us a good deal."

Harry grinned and picked the hand up, taking it away from its course and slipping one finger into his mouth.  "This night's going to stick in my mind for a long time," he decided, running his tongue the length of Draco's finger.

Draco had a few rather dirty thoughts at that moment, melting against Harry.

"This place is fucking huge," he said, after regaining his composure slightly. His voice was heavily slurred as dilated eyes watched Harry. "We could go off somewhere and make it even more memorable."

Harry laughed around Draco's finger, nibbling the end slightly.  "I'm having fun right here."

"We could have more fun elsewhere," Draco mumbled, but he diverted his eyes.

Harry slowly took Draco's finger out of his mouth and raised the hand, kissing the palm before entwining their two hands together.

"Define fun," he asked with a smirk.

A smirking grin lifted Draco's lip. He lifted Harry's other hand and licked his palm.

"There are all sorts of things we could do," he purred. Moving his lips close to Harry's ear, he proceeded to suggest a number of things in an undertone.

"I don't think anyone would be able to say no to that," Harry murmured.  One of his hands managed to slip out of Draco's grip to trace the faint scar on his cheek.

Draco laughed evilly. "Shall we excuse ourselves, Potty?"

He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "They'll miss us, but this is in the name of education."

Draco made an obscure gesture at the darkness over the balcony and pulled Harry's arm.

"It's time," he said ominously.

Harry raised an eyebrow, throwing an arm around Draco's shoulders absently.  "I don't think many people approve of student/teacher relationships," he grinned, referring to Draco's comment on education.

"I'm a special kind of teacher."


	14. The Malfoy family code

Play the Game

By Micro-chick and Morgana Malfoy

A/N: Something happens to Blaise, and for some reason, he's talking to Gryffindors. Draco and Harry return from the party after a boring train ride, with slight hangovers, still not completely remembering the night before, and Ron and Dean confront Harry about the party.

_Since when was love a game? Draco Malfoy does not play games. Chess, cards, and quidditch are games. Love doesn't have rules… right? Therefore it's not a game. But why are both the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike no longer playing by the rules?_

Chapter Fourteen

Blaise strolled down the hall leading toward the Library at a leisurely pace, avoiding anyone and everyone that he could. So many things were changing, he was finding it harder than he thought possible to keep up with it all. Draco, Harry, Voldemort, the Deatheaters, Dumbledore... they all seemed to be doing things that at one point in time, people wouldn't have believed would ever happen.

The dark haired boy turned the corner and continued to walk, not really seeing where he was going as he did so, but nodding to the occasional person who acknowledged him. Absently, he played with the fabric inside his pockets and continued to think.

"Hey, I thought you went to that party." It was Dean Thomas. He pulled his hood down and stuck his hands into his pockets. "What are you doing poking around here?"

Blaise looked up and blinked, bringing himself out of his thoughts. "Changed my mind. What about you?" he asked.

Dean blinked slowly, frowning at Blaise. "I wasn't invited. Not really my crowd. I didn't think it was yours, but then you're still here, so I guess it's not."

"I meant, what are you doing poking around here," Blaise all but snapped, restraining himself slightly. Honestly though, some Gryffindors couldn't half be dense. Though, they were _supposedly_ good kissers.

"I just came back from Hogsmeade, actually," Dean admitted, wrinkling his nose and looking up at the ceiling, as though that would aid him in avoiding the question.

"Sorry," Blaise apologised. He followed Dean's gaze and looked at the same spot in the ceiling.

"I'm staying in the dorms tonight," he decided suddenly. "Hope you don't mind."

"Our ones? But what about your own place?" Dean asked, frowning. "Well, I guess a guy could get lonely. I bet it's not very welcoming there. Want to go back to the common room now? I don't think anyone'll ask too many questions. You've been in there since, after all."

Blaise checked the watch around his wrist before answering, "There probably won't be many people anyway, it's late. I need to go get something from the... Library... first... so... I'll, see you in a few minutes?" he asked.

"Yeah, want me to come along?" Dean asked, scratching his shoulder absently.

Blaise shook his head suddenly. "No, I'll be fine. Not worth it."

Dean shrugged. "If you insist. When you get back, knock a couple of times on the portrait and we'll sneak you in so no one bugs you about it." With that, he walked off into the shadows of the corridor and out of sight, appearing every now and again in the strips of moonlight from the tall windows.

Blaise took a deep breath, and pushed some hair back out of his eyes, running a tongue over his bottom lip thoughtfully. 'Well, that wasn't so bad,' he decided, turning on his heel and walking down to the Entrance Hall absently, not really paying attention to where he was going.

As he placed a hand on the entrance doors he frowned. 'Who did I just talk to?' he asked himself, stepping out into the bitingly cold wind. 'Where am I going? Strange, I can't remember.'

He continued to walk, feet crunching on the hard grass and robe flying in the wind. It was getting toward the end of January and the weather was still protesting that it should be almost unbearably cold in Scotland, which had begun to grate on the nerves of most of the students at Hogwarts, who were now wishing for the fur robes of Durmstrang.

He was heading for the Forbidden Forest, as if some invisible force he didn't object to was pulling him. The same force he felt to hurt and annoy people, especially Hufflepuffs. Though for a Slytherin, this invisible force was considered normal. That is, when it wasn't dragging you into the Forbidden Forest.

There was a crack and he whirled around, only to hear another crack, this time the crack was his head hitting a tree trunk, followed by a third crack which was the sound of his body falling onto the ground. Everything swam out of focus, and then there was darkness.

The feeling in Draco's head was reminiscent of a small, smelly creature, such as a skunk, in a bad temper, having eaten curry and wielding a sledge hammer. He snorted out of his nostrils as he pushed himself gingerly upright.

Snoring people were scattered all across the floor. Draco was lying in a pool of alcohol wearing nothing but a party hat and a kilt.

"I told Blaise I'd wear one..." he murmured, but talking echoed in his head, bashing against his temples. Shivering, Draco crawled across the floor, picking his way through the passed-out partygoers until he found Harry. Music still drawled weakly from the speakers, the spell diminishing pathetically.

"Harry," he croaked, tapping him on the shoulder. Harry was dressed in a pair of pink hot pants and a bikini top, stubble shaded his chin dark blue and an innocent smile was spread across his face. Draco felt like a vandal for waking him, among other things, but it had to be done.

Harry shot awake, hands waving wildly around and grabbing the only thing they could, which just so happened to be Draco's kilt. He shook his head from side to side, hair plastered to his forehead by sweat. "Hello," he greeted weakly, holding onto the kilt tightly so he didn't topple over sideways and go back to sleep.

"Feeling shitty?" Draco asked conversationally, holding onto his head. "I think I need to drink from a toilet..."

Harry grunted, releasing his hold on Draco and falling backwards. "I can't remember a thing," he groaned. He threw an arm over his face to block the glare from one of the strobe lights.

"You won't for a while," Draco told him, struggling to his feet. "I'm going to get pissed again so I stop shaking..." He staggered off in the general direction of the bar.

"Hey!" Harry called, his voice cracking. "W-wait for me!" He staggered to his feet and grabbed hold of Draco's wrist to steady himself. "Maribella's."

"There, there," Draco mumbled absently. "Do you know where your clothes are?" he drawled, grabbing a bottle of something innocuous and pouring it down his throat. "I can't make Mariwhatsits."

"Man, they were good," Harry mumbled, vaulting over the bar and searching for a nice looking bottle of something. "And no, I've no clue. What did we do last night?"

Draco turned to him, licking his lip. He looked at him speculatively. "You don't wanna know. Wait till you're healthy again."

Harry narrowed his eyes into slits, frowning as he couldn't remember. "That bad?" he asked.

Draco laughed. "You'll have to wear black instead of white," he summarised, drinking from the bottle.

Harry blinked, his eyes narrowing more. He turned and rooted through one of the cupboards, coming up triumphant with a bottle of a silver liquid which he downed in one go. "Come again?" he asked between coughs.

Draco snorted, spraying Smirnoff across the bar. He couldn't seem to speak for holding in his laughter. He held the back of his hand against his mouth and leaned on the bar for support.

Harry frowned, looking at Draco with a slightly confused expression. "I missed something," he stated, downing another drink and turning away from Draco to find more.

"I hope you didn't," Draco said vehemently, putting the bottle down. He held out his hand experimentally, watching his fingers shake. "It's dying down. Want to go and find a train?"

"In this?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow and looking down at what he was wearing. "You have to be kidding me."

"So nick someone else's clothes," Draco said, sticking his tongue out and straightening his party hat. "I need to find my boots."

"Don't stick it out unless you're going to use it," Harry replied with a smirk, vaulting back over the bar and going in search of something to wear.

"I already did use it," Draco frowned, wandering away in search of his clothes.

Harry pulled the jeans on, after finding them squashed between Alexei and Rafe. He found Mitzi wearing his shirt, and decided to let her have it, finding his jacket and pulling it on after taking the bikini top off. "Draco?" he called, wondering where the other boy had got to.

"Over here," Draco called, pulling on his boots and slipping his shirt on, but not buttoning it up. "Lost the trousers, but I have more."

"I wouldn't expect less from a Malfoy," Harry admitted, looping an arm around Draco's waist.

Draco wordlessly left paying for their tickets to Harry, standing a safe distance from the Muggle ticket officer with a haughty expression on his face, the hot smoky breeze from the London Underground tunnel stirring his tousled hair. He stood with one leg bent and one hip jutting out, arms folded across his chest. The long kilt flared slightly in the slipstream from the trains, and several schoolgirls were watching him avidly.

Harry frowned at the slow woman who was the ticket officer. She seemed hell bent on examining his notes to check they weren't fake, and the Queen didn't have a mustache or anything. When he received his change, he bit the coins, with a haughty, "Just checking," In the woman's direction.

He walked over to Draco and handed him his ticket wordlessly, yawning and stretching his arms above his head.

Draco barely glanced at the slip of card before handing it back to Harry to get him through the barrier.

"I hate this place," he said in a languid drawl. It was one of the many things that Draco considered himself above.

Harry rolled his eyes and yawned, slipping both tickets into his pocket. "You're too fussy, you know."

"I was brought up that way," Draco admitted, pushing through the barrier and out onto the platform. He marched right up to the yellow line and peered down the tunnel, strands of silken hair billowing away from his face.

"When's it coming?" he asked Harry, not looking at him.

Harry glanced up at the clock, which was broken, then down to the watch Draco had given him. "About five minutes from now."

"Hnn," Draco grunted, wheeling and walking over to the plastic seats. He slumped down, bending one leg and stretching the other out in front of him. "It could be so much faster than this, but they don't seem to understand that," he said loudly, tossing his head. The schoolgirls were clustered at the barrier, casting covert glances at him.

Harry noticed the girls out of the corner of his eye, and wondered what they would do if he turned around and proceeded to snog Draco senseless. A thought that wasn't helped much by Draco's attire. 'Damn you, Draco Malfoy,' he thought bitterly, knowing that he liked the boy all too much.

Harry slumped into a seat and leaned his head against the wall, staring at the ceiling. "Won't Alexei mind that we just left?"

"Everyone there knows we're still at school," Draco shrugged, inspiring an excited titter from the girls. "They couldn't stop us. Besides, the earlier we leave, the less pranks we get pulled on us." He scratched his thigh absently, then frowned. Lifting the edge of the kilt slightly, he pulled a lacy garter down his leg with a laugh.

"I wondered what that was," he murmured, pulling it off over his dragonhide boot and examining it. The girls standing by the barrier were now discussing this in great detail. "Must have been some kind of strange commitment," Draco surmised. "I expect I'll find out who it belongs to when whoever she is sobers up."

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "Ten galleons on Mitzi."

"You're on," Draco said flatly, staring straight ahead at the advertisement on the other side of the tunnel. "You know those girls are staring at you."

Harry rolled his eyes, giving Draco a side-long glance. "They seem to be a lot more interested in your kilt, or more precisely, what's under it," he grinned, before looking back up at the ceiling innocently.

"I'm still mildly pissed, if they're curious, they should say so."

He turned his head slowly to cast a look at the girls, dropping his eyes and running them back up the girls' bodies with a practiced seductive expression. He let a languid grin slide across his face before looking back to Harry again.

"They're looking at you too," he confirmed.

The mild blush on Harry's cheeks was not unnoticed by the girls or Draco. "We have to get pissed more often," he decided, some of the memories of the night before finally coming back to him.

Draco laughed. "My little angel, you're losing your innocence." He gave Harry_ that_ look. "Or at least the innocence you had left. Are you walking straight this morning?" he asked suggestively.

Harry sank down slightly in his seat, fighting to control the blush. "Mostly. And yourself?" he asked in return, willing the train to appear.

"I've had more practice at walking straight," Draco said dismissively, rising to his feet. He stepped right up to the edge of the platform again, watching for the train.

Harry relaxed slightly and, unable to resist, glanced over at the girls who were watching both him and Draco. They started giggling.

In a split second decision, he got up and walked over to Draco, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy's waist and resting his chin on his shoulder.

"I still need practice, special teacher, sir," he said innocently, breath stirring the hair at the base of Draco's neck.

Suddenly, the tube was coming and he stepped backwards, taking his arms from around Draco and pulling the tickets out of his pocket.

"There's a lot of homework and extra research you can do," Draco told him, stepping up onto the train and walking down to the end of the carriage. The girls followed them, staring unabashedly at the two boys.

Harry flashed the tickets to a guard, and followed Draco to the end of the carriage, dropping into a seat and crossing his long legs out in front of him.

"They're following us," he pointed out, keeping his voice low.

"Maybe they're going the same way as we are," Draco pointed out reasonably. "This is a public service." He spat the words out as though it were one of the most disgusting notions on the planet.

Harry rolled his eyes, stretching his arms along the top of the ridge behind them. "It gets the job done."

"Slowly," Draco added critically, moving carefully so that none of his skin touched the lurid-patterned seat. "It'll take us a year to get back to school at this rate."

"The longer the better," Harry muttered. "We still haven't decided what we're going to do in public yet."

Draco looked exasperatedly at Harry. "Does that matter so much to you? Can't we just ignore each other and leave it that way?"

Harry shrugged, rubbing his jaw absently. "S'long as you don't punch me again," he replied, glancing out of the window.

"I'm over _those_ raging urges," Draco said, smirking and sliding further down in his seat. The girls were shifting slowly up the carriage towards them.

"And the other urges?" Harry mused aloud, conscious of the girls as well. Two seats away, and still moving.

"Not nearly over those yet," Draco grinned, glancing across at the girls. "Though I'm not the only one, apparently."

Harry smirked, raking a hand through his hair. "Good." One seat away.

"How are you feeling?" Draco asked, laying a hand against his own temples as though to see if they were actually being thumped with a mallet. He had always seemed able to accept hangovers as a punishment that he deserved, and did not bother to complain about them.

The girls shifted into the seat next to them, and Draco felt a flush of irritation.

"Can we help you?" he asked them in a civil drawl.

Harry glanced over, no longer looking out of the window. There were three girls in total, two with brown hair and one with dirty blonde. His eyes slipped over their clothes, noticing that they were muggle girls, before he went back to looking out the window.

'They must be mad to think Draco might be interested in them,' he thought idly, neglecting to say anything.

One of the girls cleared her throat. "Hi," she greeted shyly, most of her friends giggling.

"Hello," Draco smiled flatly. His eyes clearly showed that he had deduced the same thing as Harry had. "Have we met?"

As one, they all shook their heads. Harry wondered if they were all programmed as such. "No, sadly."

"Would be great though," started one, flicking her hair and smiling at Draco.

"To get to know you better," the other elaborated, edging slightly closer to Harry but watching Draco intently.

"Mm," Draco almost grunted his assent. "And who might you be?"

He looked them up and down again without embarrassment, flicking his tousled blond hair from his lidded grey eyes.

"I'm Cassandra, this is Maisy, and that's Lucile," Cassandra introduced them all, nodding to the girl who was_ still _edging toward Harry last.

"Who are you?" She batted her eyelashes.

"Draco," Draco introduced himself, splaying his fingers against his chest. "That's Harry," he added, pointing. He had hesitated before using his rather unique first name. It often gained him odd looks, either by way of recognition or just because it was different. One can never be anonymous with a name like Draco, he mused.

Shaking himself from his thoughtful reverie, Draco smiled to Cassandra. "So why are you three out and about on a ... Saturday ... morning?" It took him a moment to remember what day it was.

"We spent the night partying with our-" her friend hit her in the ribs, catching Harry's attention. "...friends."

Lucile, noticing that Harry was looking slightly more awake now, smiled over at him sweetly and he closed his eyes. 'Too bright... makeup... sore eyes,' his thoughts assessed.

"You have a wonderful name, Draco," cooed Maisy.

"Thanks," Draco said doubtfully. "Sounds like we did pretty much the same as you did." He passed a melodramatic hand over his eyes. "I swear, I feel like a whole different person this morning."

Harry resisted the urge to elbow Draco in the ribs. Hard. "Where are you girls off to?" he asked.

Lucile jumped at the chance to talk to him, but apparently didn't know the answer as she mouthed wordlessly in Harry's direction.

"Liverpool," she croaked eventually.

Draco thought it over quickly. 'They'll be going the same way as us. Oh hell.'

Harry was evidently thinking the same thing, his mind quickly running over the various things that might get the girls to go away.

'This is going to be one long train ride,' he thought bitterly, sinking down in his seat.

Draco, though he was sorely tempted not to admit it to himself, was running like a ponce. He had his arms wrapped around his chest and was lifting his legs up high so that the stinging, icy dew on the wet grass did not whip his legs as he ran. The combination of the location of his arms and of his peculiar regalia caused him to turn about with each step, resulting in him looking as if he were flouncing up the lawns to the castle. For some reason, this seemed hysterically funny, and Draco was nearly pissing himself laughing.

"Come - on - Harry!" he called back over his shoulder, each word from a different direction. "I'm - cold!"

Harry strolled along at a leisurely pace, not really feeling the cold that signaled that it was in fact, quite late at night. "Maybe you shouldn't be wearing that excuse for men to wear skirts, namely, a kilt," he shouted back, catching up on Draco but making sure to not get in the way of his flouncing walk.

"It was the first thing I could find," Draco panted, taking a ballerina-leap onto the steps and bending to rub his calves. "I'm very cold. Can we go to your room and warm me up?"

Harry walked past Draco to push the door open. "And just how would we do that, do you propose?" he asked, stepping into the Great Hall and glancing around. Luckily, there was no one in sight.

"I can propose many things," Draco said, following him and stroking a hand over Harry's arse. "A nice warm blanket and a good fire might help out, though."

"As you wish," Harry murmured, glancing over his shoulder to smile at Draco before running a hand through his hair. "Those girls were annoying."

"Have you become totally converted?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. "Last I heard, you wouldn't say no to a girl. They were rather attractive once one had tuned out of the sound of their voices and ignored the fact that they were Muggles."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I still like girls. Just, not those girls." He rubbed his shoulder absently, which Lucile had used as a pillow when she fell asleep.

"Hmm, fair enough," Draco said, slightly miffed at the notion that Harry could like anyone but him, irrational though it was.

"Harry?" Dean's voice echoed through the hallway. "Harry is that you?"

"Ah, Hogwarts," Harry said, placing a hand on the small of Draco's back. "You can always tell when you're here because you can't get a moment of peace with someone without being interrupted."

He pushed Draco over to one of the windows and pulled the curtain. "Stay put," he hissed before turning to where Dean was coming from. "Hey, Dean."

"Where did you go?" Dean asked. Ron came up behind him, adding:

"We've been looking all over for you, mate."

"Where did I go?" Harry asked, blinking. "I told you I was at a party."

"I thought you said you weren't going," Dean said, bewildered. He scratched his head and looked to Ron for support.

"Dean told me you told him that you weren't going..." he said blankly.

"Dean must have been dreaming," Harry replied, looking just as lost as Ron and Dean. He had told those that were close to him that he would be spending the previous night at a party outside of Hogwarts, but hadn't mentioned the Slytherins, Draco or Alexei. "Why wouldn't I go?" he asked.

"You didn't say... Maybe you're right," Dean shrugged. "I'm like that sometimes." Still, he looked very doubtful.

Ron looked suspiciously at Harry. "Are you sure?" he asked shrewdly. "I mean... This is odd."

"This_ is_ odd," Harry replied. "But I honestly went to a party, I've just got back now."

"Oh I believe you," Dean assured him. "It's just that I definitely remember talking to you last night, then you went off somewhere and you didn't come back, so I went to talk to Ron..."

"We talked about the Quidditch World Cup," Ron recalled. "You can't have been dreaming."

"But Harry didn't remember it, so I guess I was."

"Unless someone else was pretending to be Harry, but that wouldn't happen... Would it?" Ron looked shocked. The realisation that it had reached January without any plots by Voldemort against Harry's life hit him suddenly, and he stared.

Harry could see the cogs in Ron's brain whirring. "I'm sure it's nothing guys," he said hastily, willing Ron to not start sprouting conspiracy theories left, right and centre. "Lets just drop it, OK?"

Ron looked incredibly unwilling to do that. Dean, however, shot him a warning look.

"Are you coming back to the dorms tonight?" he asked Harry, casually stepping in front of Ron.

"I'm not sure," Harry replied unsurely, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder at where Draco was. "We'll see."

"We'll be there, anyway," Dean said distantly, treading on Ron's foot as he turned to walk back down the corridor they had come from.

Once the two were out of sight, Draco pushed out from behind the curtain.

"What a load of bollocks," he laughed. "Some prankster took Polyjuice, or those two are pulling a prank on you anyway. It could just be the hangover, you know. You might well have told them you weren't going."

"Speaking of hangovers, I'm starting to get a headache from all this confusion and after effects of drinking myself under the table," Harry muttered, rubbing his head. "The better we get to my room the faster." He blinked. "You know what I meant."

"I certainly do, or at least I hope so," Draco laughed. He put an arm behind Harry's legs and one around his chest, lifting him up and attempting to carry him up the stairs. There was much straining, grunting and heaving involved.

Harry smiled slightly, dropping his head so it rested on Draco's chest. "Thanks."

Draco grunted in reply, staggering.

Surprisingly, he didn't collapse until he got to the sofa in Harry's room. Then he lay sprawled on the floor, arms stretched out and chest rising and falling with his quickened breath.

Harry rolled over onto his front on the sofa and closed his eyes. He reached into his pocket and waved his wand, breathing the word 'Incendio' so that the fire lit.

"On the plus side," he said slowly. "I'm starting to remember the party."

Draco rolled closer to the fire.

"Me too," he murmured, running his silver eyes over Harry's body and smirking.

Harry would have blushed, had his eyes been open and he able to see Draco. "One hell of a party," he commented. "Great drink."

"You have a thing with those, don't you?" Draco laughed softly. "I'll have to find out what's in them... Although I doubt that you actually want to know."

He stretched languidly, linking his hands behind his head and crossing his ankles.

"Excellent company," Harry added, almost as an afterthought with a grin. "Those drinks were great. Never tasted anything like it before."

"You're such an innocent," Draco sighed. He rolled up to sit on the floor beside Harry's sofa, folding his arms and resting his chin on them. "I love you."

Harry smiled, opening one eye to look at Draco. "I know," he replied to both comments.

Draco shrugged elegantly. "Doesn't hurt to tell you anyway," he murmured, sliding a cool hand up Harry's hip and across the smooth, hot velvet skin of his stomach.

Harry lifted his hand to rest it on top of Draco's and picked it up, spreading the fingers out and then entwining their fingers before sitting up on the sofa and cautiously opening his other eye, wincing slightly at the light. "Love you too," he replied with a smile, turning his head to the side slightly.

"About time too," Draco said flatly.

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "Moody," he accused playfully.

"Malfoy, actually," Draco corrected him. "The Moodys went astray long ago. I think they defected in 1865, no... 75. 1875. Auberon Malfoy was incredibly pissed off with them. That was when he issued stricture 698 - no Malfoy shall ever marry into the Moody family. He was also responsible for stricture 674b - no Malfoy shall ever carry a duckheaded walking cane."

"Malfoy," Harry commanded. "Shut up." He leaned forward and kissed Draco softly, moving his free hand to tilt Draco's head back a little.

Draco slid his tongue into Harry's mouth, slipping his other hand up Harry's arm and gripping the sleeve of his shirt. After the kiss ended, he tipped his forehead to lean it against Harry's.

"In 1076, one of the oldest recorded strictures was released, stricture 7a - Hear ye, Malefait kinsmen. Thou shalt never share thine divine company with yon curs of the house of Gryffinedores," he informed Harry in a low purring voice.

Harry frowned slightly, "Never share company with a Gryffindor. Then what, prey tell, are you doing, young master Malfoy?" he asked curiously.

"Breaking the rules," Draco growled, pulling Harry's lips back to his.

Harry chuckled against Draco's mouth, pulling back a centimetre so that when he talked his lips brushed Draco's. "Who made all these rules and charters anyway?"

"All the heads of the family. They feel it's their duty to give us stupid rules. We're on the 12305th rule now. We have to learn almost all of them, as well. Father's responsible for about eighteen so far, which isn't too bad. One of them is that Malfoys must never wear orange undergarments."

"And the point is..." Harry slipped his hand out from under Draco's and ran it up to Draco's shoulder, using it to push Draco backwards. He slid off the end of the sofa so he was now eye level with Draco and smirked, tracing the outline of Draco's lips with his fingers.

"That Father has an extreme dislike of the colour orange," Draco guessed, keeping his lips as still as possible to allow Harry's fingers to continue their tickling journey. "I wouldn't know."

Harry grinned, becoming fascinated with his fingers which he trailed down and across Draco's chin and over the pale skin that was his neck. They paused at the collar to Draco's shirt before undoing the top two buttons. He placed his hand flat on the skin that was revealed and looked up at Draco, green eyes sparkling before his lips replaced his hand.

An indulgent smile slipped across Draco's face as he tilted his head back.

"You know, there's another one that really interests me. I made a particular study into the rules issued by this particular man. Horatio Malfoy, he was tied up in a strait jacket soon after he released these rules, but they still stand. 11438g - Every third male Malfoy whose initials are D A J E M must have engaged in buggery by the time he reaches his eighteenth birthday. Interesting, don't you think?"

Harry smirked against Draco's skin, tongue flicking out occasionally. One of his hands set about undoing the rest of the buttons on Draco's shirt while he braced his weight on the other.

"He also decided that he should be the only Malfoy named Horatio, so stricture 11435 states that no Malfoy shall be called Horatio from the time of his death," Draco rambled, growing distinctly aroused by Harry's actions.

Harry, very aware of this fact, finally undid all of Draco's buttons and pushed his shirt off his shoulders, moving to straddle Draco's lap at the same time. His trail of kisses moved along Draco's collarbone and onto his chest where he smirked before repeating something he had done to Draco at the party.

Draco groaned happily, fingers gripping Harry's waist.

"And you know the strangest thing," he drawled, trying to distract himself. It was rather entertaining. "No one has decided to overrule him yet. Usually when a crackpot makes rules, people make more rules saying that you can ignore that rule. As it is, people just randomly give their children those initials for a laugh."

Harry raised an eyebrow, lifting his head to look Draco in the eye. "You have a very weird family," he denounced, before leaning forward and placing a kiss on Draco's nose. He wriggled out of Draco's grasp and stood up, rooting through one of the drawers for his glasses whilst taking his contacts out.

"I could have told you that without you getting off my lap," Draco accused faintly, linking his fingers behind his head again.

Harry chuckled, finding his glasses and slipping them up his nose. "I know, but I felt like you'd had enough for now," he grinned. "Unless you're going to prove me otherwise?"

"Never enough," Draco told him, shaking his head darkly. "We're greedy, us Malfoys."

"Which of your ancestors made up that rule?" Harry asked, amused, raking a hand through his hair and dropping onto the sofa again.

"What, that we're greedy?" Draco frowned. "That's just a well known fact."

Harry laughed, and then winced as his headache wasn't entirely gone yet. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Depends on whether or not you're the generous, giving type," Draco said, holding his arms out to Harry. Harry rolled his eyes and dropped down off the sofa onto his knees again, moving to straddle Draco's lap once more.

"Hufflepuffs are generous, Gryffindors are possessive," he replied, ducking his head so his nose was almost touching Draco's. "You're mine."

"Completely," Draco agreed, smirking.

Harry returned the smirk before closing the remaining distance between them.


	15. Meeting Ginny Weasley

Play the Game

By Micro-chick and Morgana Malfoy

A/N:

_Since when was love a game? Draco Malfoy does not play games. Chess, cards, and quidditch are games. Love doesn't have rules… right? Therefore it's not a game. But why are both the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike no longer playing by the rules?_

Chapter Fifteen

Ginny Weasley was your basic average girl with no special talents, save for putting on lipstick amazingly well while walking. A feat that although it seems easy, is actually hard without a mirror.

It was a hot day at Hogwarts today, abnormally so when it was February tomorrow. The Gryffindor quidditch team was practicing and although the prospect of watching a group of hot boys sweat it out was one of the best things to see in Ginny's opinion, she had been forced to return to the castle in search of somewhere cool to escape the heat.

She finished applying the blood red lipstick, pursed her lips once and put the lipstick in her bag, though it managed to miss the pocket and landed, unnoticed, on the grass behind her as she continued to walk.

"You dropped something."

She paused, a strand of red hair falling into her eyes as she did so. Slowly, she turned on the spot to see Draco Malfoy holding out her lipstick to her. "Malfoy?" she said quietly, registering what she was seeing.

"Weasley," Draco nodded. "You dropped your lipstick."

Ginny made no move to take the lipstick off him. "Why are you here? It seems a bit odd to be on the grounds during this heat."

Draco looked at her flatly. "I was actually snooping around, hoping to receive a letter from my father concerning Blaise Zabini's whereabouts. He's been missing for quite a while now."

"Right." She sounded unconvinced. "Nothing to do with the fact that the Gryffindor team is practicing right over there?" she asked.

"Nothing whatsoever," Draco answered tonelessly, grey eyes fixed on her face.

Ginny was quiet for a while, watching him calmly, and not dropping her gaze once. "I thought it was you," she said slowly.

"Thought what was me?" Draco asked casually, examining her lipstick.

"I always thought that _he_ was the one for me, he was always kind, trying to bring out the best in everyone. He tried to make people smile, he didn't act better, he loved everyone for who they were," she said, not directly answering his question. "I watched him for so long that I knew him better than he himself did, I could understand when he needed to be alone, or when he needed a hug. But most of all, I noticed when he fell in love."

She reached forward and took the lipstick off Draco, dropping it into her bag once more.

"Oh?" Draco said, unfazed.

"I always imagined him as the one for me, my soul-mate who I'd marry and live with forever, but that's just a childish dream from a girl who was read fairy tales every night by her brothers. He wasn't mine, I just saw in him everything I went for in a guy at once," he continued, ignoring Draco's 'oh?'. "Tell me, Malfoy, what kind of guys do _you_ go for?"

"Usually ones who can make me feel less like what I really am. Ones who can let me escape what's normal for me. Dark-haired ones, preferably innocent, so I can break them in myself," he told her, putting his hands in his pockets.

Ginny smirked and pulled her hair out of her face. "I knew it was you," she grinned.

"Oh did you?" Draco asked in a disinterested tone.

"I didn't know you loved him back, though," she murmured, loosening her tie. "I'm going inside to escape this blasted heat. Have fun watching Harry play Quidditch_. Malfoy."_

"Did I look like I was watching?" Draco asked her, sounding only vaguely curious. "Are you delighted with your discovery?"

"I only see Malfoy, I don't watch. You probably don't look like you are," she replied with a half-hearted shrug. "Of course I'm not delighted. No one's seen Harry like I have; but then again, I've not seen you either. I don't know. But I won't tell anyone."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You can see as much of me as you want, so long as the price is right," he murmured.

Ginny frowned. "Harry's going to get hurt," she decided. "You're not right for each other. You're complete opposites."

"And you're the authority on that because?" Draco asked, tone polite but eyes flashing dangerously.

"I'm nothing but too hot right now. Harry's the authority, you know that. He could continue or end anything he wants. I just had to check it was really you." With that, she turned and left, walking swiftly back up the steps to the castle in search of a cool place.

Draco watched her for a time then shrugged, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth. "I _like_ her," he murmured to himself, continuing his walk in the shade.

There was an almighty crash as the two wooden double doors flew open with enough force to crack the wall's they slammed into, though thankfully, they did not.

Blaise strode through the arch doorway imperiously, loud and with a defiant look on his face. He came to a halt in front of a desk, two guards coming up behind him and looking bewildered.

He folded his arms across his chest and stared at Lucius Malfoy. "Yes?"

"Explain," Lucius said flatly, signaling for the doors to be closed with a wave of his hand.

"There's nothing to be explained," Blaise replied darkly, failing to see the need in the guards and wondering why on earth he was here in the first place anyway. "I Polyjuiced into Potter as asked, and opened the floo network - though I still don't understand why, when I'm being Potter afterall - and these two idiots" - he jerked his head in the guards direction - "decided to kidnap me. Tell me Lucius, what the hell is going on? I want answers now."

He glared at the older man, gritting his teeth.

"Did you not read the letter we sent?" Lucius asked in a tone with all the warmth of a grave.

"There has been more than one letter, Lucius," Blaise replied in a mocking tone. "Please do specify."

"The one that told you that that plan was off," Lucius barked, nostrils flaring as he attempted to maintain a cool exterior.

"Oh, _that_ letter," Blaise said, understanding dawning in his voice. "Nope, never received it."

"Well I'm sorry, but that one never made it to me. Shame," he remarked sarcastically, tapping his fingers on his arm absently. "Now, can I go while you tell The Dark Lord that _you_ messed up?"

He turned to leave, and froze in his tracks, visions of different things flashing before his eyes. Christmas, his parents, Voldemort, the present, his dad, waking up and not knowing where he was, Draco telling him he was different, Cien tearful, holding a letter then dropping it hastily suddenly.

He started and whirled around to face Lucius suddenly. "Take it off me," he said calmly, holding out his hand. "Take it off! TAKE IT OFF ME NOW!" he roared.

"Please, Mr. Zabini, calm yourself," Lucius said coolly. "You know full well that I will not take it off. I can't. You're stuck with it, I'm afraid."

"I'm not, I'm not I'm not I'm NOT!" he yelled, pacing forwards and then backwards, not knowing whether to run or stay. The guards behind him looked unsure of what to do and looked to Lucius for help.

"You can take it off, Lucius. All you need is a reason, and I have one. I know how to get Potter to rush here blindly." Blaise's dark eyes flashed and he settled back into staring at Lucius calmly, arms folded across his chest.

"I know the one thing that means the most to Harry Potter."

"I physically cannot remove it," Lucius assured him, "but I can arrange the presence of someone who can. Tell me how to get Potter here."

"Alright, we're starting from a goal pass. Ron, take possession of the quaffle for the red team and everyone move into position, I want to see tactics this time instead of pointless passing!" Harry called, cupping his hands around his mouth to be heard.

It was too hot, and he'd been training the reserve seeker for nearly an hour now in the unbearable heat. As the game started, he flew down to sit next to Hermione on the bench, throwing his broom on the pitch.

"Hey, 'Mione," he offered by way of greeting.

"Hello Harry," Hermione smiled, moving up to allow him more room. She slipped a marker between the pages of her book and looked up at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," he yawned, leaning back on his arms to peer up at the game that was going on. "Pass to Chantelle, she's free!" he yelled suddenly, before relaxing again and giving Hermione a sheepish look.

"Sorry if I shouted down your eardrums."

"That's all right," Hermione said with a delicate smile, rubbing her ear. "I'm sort of used to it with you and Ron."

Harry grinned. "So, how are you? I've not seen you or Ron a lot recently save for lessons."

He turned and lay on his back on the bench, still keeping an eye on the game, resisting the urge to fall asleep there and then.

"We noticed," Hermione said, a little sadly. "We're not too bad. There's a lot of work on now."

"Work?" Harry echoed, his brow furrowing. "What kind of work?"

Hermione looked at him. "Ron's father has a lot to do. There haven't been any signs of the Deatheaters since they escaped Azkaban."

"Oh," Harry said quietly. 'Why did no one tell me?'

"Draco knows where his father is," he said absently, smiling as Ron saved a goal and waved down at Hermione and Harry cheerfully.

"We didn't tell you because you didn't ask, and of course he does, but he wouldn't tell us, would he?" Hermione sighed, leaning back and closing her eyes against the sunlight.

"I know," Harry said softly, closing his eyes and becoming slightly uncomfortable in the heat.

"Ron doesn't know, does he?" he asked suddenly, opening an eye to look up at Hermione.

"About you and Draco?" Hermione clarified quietly. "No, I don't think so. Ginny seems to have a rough idea though."

"Ginny?" Harry asked, closing his eye again and unbuttoning the cloak type thing they wore over their quiddich robes. He folded his arms over his stomach before continuing, "You haven't said anything, though? I'm not sure it would be all too good if it got out..."

Hermione looked at him, her brown eyes large. "Do you really think I'd say anything?" she asked Harry, sounding slightly hurt. "I didn't tell anyone. Ginny knows you better than you realise."

"Sorry," Harry apologised. "He just means a lot to me, and I wouldn't want something to break that."

"Well in that case you'd better keep an eye on what's going on with the Deatheaters. You've lost sight of that, and usually you overdo it. Now you're under-doing it, and it's not working. Do you even know the latest news?" Hermione's voice grew heated and she spoke very fast. "Do you even know that none of them have been seen in two months? Do you know anything about Blaise Zabini going missing? I don't think you do! You could even ask Draco, he'd know all about it. I've been talking to him quite a lot, actually. He's been asking me for the other side's view on what's happening with Blaise. Do you know how worried he is about him? I doubt you do. You realise that he's likely to be summoned by his father soon? He'll have to go. They'll kill him if he doesn't. What will you do then?"

Hermione was breathing hard, eyes bright.

A scowl passed over Harry's features and he opened his eyes to look at Hermione. "I know exactly as much as you all do, but just because I'm not running around jumping whenever someone touches me, and watching my back it doesn't mean that I don't know what's happening. All I've done for the past five years is over-exagerate things, blow them out of proportion, and where has that got me? Sirius is dead, Cedric is dead, Voldemort is back because all those times I blindly rushed into something."

He took a breath.

"Do you_ know_ what it's like to close your eyes and be tormented by the images of every single time you've gone wrong because you blew everything out of proportion? Have you ever seen someone die because of you? No. I see it every night. I see what is happening and what has happened. Draco is my only escape. He knows what I see, he knows how to help stop me seeing it all. I know they're going to take him, I didn't get this far blindly, Hermione. I know what will happen, I just can't see past it."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears and she flung her arms around Harry's neck with a wail.

"I'm so sorry," she choked. "I'm just so worried for you both..."

Harry closed his eyes again. "It's OK, whatever happens, I promise I'll come back."

"Do you even have to go?" Hermione whispered, but she knew it was pointless to speak even as the words left her mouth.

He rested his head on Hermione's lap, lying on his back and crossing his arms again. Somewhere in the distance there was cheering for a goal just scored. "If I stay, he dies. If I go, we both might die. Voldemort wants me, and soon he'll find out about Draco, he'll use him against me. I have to pretend to be happy, and spend as much time with Draco, I can't leave him. What if Voldemort kills him before I get chance to do anything? What if..." his voice hitched and his eyelids fluttered shut, body relaxing.

After a few seconds it was apparent that the 16 year old had fallen asleep.

_"You can take it off, Lucius. All you need is a reason, and I have one. I know how to get Potter to rush here blindly." Blaise's dark eyes flashed and he settled back into staring at Lucius calmly, arms folded across his chest._

_"I know the one thing that means the most to Harry Potter."_

_"I physically cannot remove it," Lucius assured him, "but I can arrange the presence of someone who can. Tell me how to get Potter here."_

Harry shot awake suddenly; staring across the pitch at nothing in particular, eyes wide and unblinking. His chest rose and fell rapidly with his breathing. "I - Draco - Blaise - Must... do... something..."

Hermione jumped, her book falling off Harry's head, which she had been using as a place to rest it.

"Harry?" she asked uncertainly.

Harry pushed himself into a sitting position and looked around frantically, not noticing that the players from the team had long since ended practice themselves.

"Where's Draco?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes and shooting dark glances everywhere. "I need Draco."

"I don't know," Hermione said, marking her page. "What's wrong?"

"Another dream," he stated, swinging his legs off the bench and standing up suddenly, moving away from Hermione.

"I need to find Draco as fast as is humanly possible. Ask questions later, 'Mione."

"Do you want me to help?" Hermione asked, rising to her feet. She picked up Harry's broom from beside the bench and handed it to him.

Harry ignored her, spotting a flash of silvery-blond hair in the distance. He threw one leg over his broom and kicked off, landing quite suddenly in front of the startled Malfoy boy.

"I know where Blaise is," he said quickly, glancing around suspiciously.

"Stuck down the rabbit hole?" Draco asked sourly. He disliked being surprised.

"Oh stop it with the smart remarks, this is neither the time nor the place," Harry scolded, glaring at Draco for not realising the seriousness. "I had another dream, Blaise is going to the Manor, he's going to tell Lucius _everything_."

"Shit," Draco snapped. He glanced around. "Give me your broom."

"No. We have to go to Dumbledore. We have to tell him, he told me if I had anymore dreams..." Harry gestured wildly with his hands. "I just have to tell him, OK?"

"Sure, you go and tell Dumbly, and I'll fly to the Manor and head Blaise off before he says anything - You're sure that this hasn't happened yet?" he asked, hooking his hair behind his ears.

"I don't know. He's your friend. Why's he even telling Lucius? I thought you trusted him," Harry replied heatedly, folding his arms and looking put out.

He dropped his broom onto the floor near Draco's feet and continued to look moody. "Fine, you go head him off, and kill him for being a complete prick before I do."

"There's something not right about him," Draco murmured. Suddenly, he remembered something.

_Draco was walking along the corridor to the dungeons, mind full of something he had been saying to Harry. A point he had been making. It was something to do with Blaise, and how he seemed distant lately. Draco murmured the password and entered the common room. He could see the back of Blaise's head from where he stood. The other boy was sitting on the sofa with something in his hands._

_"Blaise," Draco called happily, jogging across the common room towards him._

_Blaise froze, then turned around, looking at Draco with a shocked expression, eyes wide._

_"D-Draco," he greeted._

_"What are you doing?" Draco asked, looking at something Blaise clutched in his hand. "Is that a letter? Who's it from?"_

_"Piss off," Blaise snapped, stuffing the letter down the back of the sofa. "You always have to know everything! Can't I do anything in peace?!"_

_Draco looked taken aback. "You never talk to me any more. I hardly ever see you. Aren't we meant to be best friends?"_

_"So?" Blaise demanded. "That doesn't mean that I have to tell you everything I'm doing, where I'm going, why I'm going, I am my own person!"_

_He stood up from the sofa, staring at Draco but seeing right through him, someone else on his mind. "You just want me to do whatever is needed and you can't be arsed doing. I don't want to."_

_Draco stepped back. "Things aren't the same anymore, are they?" he asked sadly, eyes hardening. "Why don't you go out and be vile to someone who doesn't give a shit about you?" he suggested, stepping aside to clear Blaise's path to the door. _

_"Things haven't been the same for a while. My... My parents. They're forcing me to do stuff for You-Know-Who, I don't get a say in it, and I can't control it because they fitted me out with this."_

_He made to move his arm but they were interrupted by a large gang of first years, cheering that Slytherin was in the lead in House Points. Blaise took this opportunity to disappear._

_Draco kicked the wall angrily, storming over to the sofa and slumping down. Things were not going well._

"There's a letter in the common room," Draco snapped, grabbing Harry's broom and running towards the school's main doors.

Harry paused for a split second then took off toward the school also, running around the corner and up the stairs two at a time to come to a halt outside gargoyle that was the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

"Sherbert Lemons. Eh, Moon Pops. Blood Pops. Jelly Tots, oh for fucks sake open up! This is urgent!" Harry shouted at the gargoyle angrily.

"Try Snickers," Professor Dumbledore suggested, coming up behind Harry.

"Snickers," Harry said promptly, the gargoyle moving out of his way. He started running up the stairs and then froze, jumping back down them to come face to face with Dumbledore. "Professor! It's Blaise! He's going to tell Lucius everything!"

Dumbledore's slightly amused expression grew grave. "Come with me, tell me everything."

"I had another dream," Harry said breathlessly, following Dumbledore into his office and leaving the door open. "Blaise was telling Lucius the one thing that means most to me, he's going to tell Lucius the one thing I would follow blindly anywhere."

Dumbledore looked calmly at Harry, removing his spectacles and polishing them on his purple robe. "You cannot go to stop him, no matter what. Stay here. It is simply a trap. Mr. Zabini cannot get hold of the thing that means the most to you."

"Draco's gone to get a letter that Blaise received," Harry added, falling into a chair.

"Professor!" Hermione panted, running in with a letter clutched in her hand. "Professor!"

"Miss Granger?" Dumbledore looked surprised at her rather sudden appearance.

"Professor, Draco's gone to the Manor," Hermione panted.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed suddenly. "He's done WHAT?!"

"He's gone," Hermione clarified. "He flew off. Gone to stop Blaise before he says anything..."

"Please say this a cruel joke, Hermy," Harry pleaded, looking from her to the letter clutched in her hand. "Please tell me he hasn't."

"I'm not lying to you!" Hermione snapped. "He bumped into me as he was leaving. He's got your broom, says he's going to the Manor. He gave me this and told me to find Dumbledore..."

"Harry," Dumbledore said, "is this what you meant?"

"Meant what?" Harry asked, whirling around to look at Dumbledore. "I didn't mean anything!"

"Has Mr. Malfoy taken something with him that means a lot to you?" Dumbledore asked, eyes expressionless.

"Oh for goodness' sake!" Hermione exclaimed. "Draco IS the thing that means everything to Harry! It's a trap, but Draco's too stupid to realise that. That vision is probably never going to happen!"

Harry shook his head. "It's already happened," he said quietly. "Blaise said he knew what meant most to me, and it was so real that it felt like I was there in the room with them." He frowned, trying to remember.

"He never mentioned Draco's name though. Draco might get there in time, but probably not. Professor, can't you get him back?" he asked, eyes wide.

Dumbledore spread his hands. "Mr. Malfoy is not within a traceable range. It appears that he knows how to Apparate, or that he has a Portkey to the Manor."

"So get him back!" Harry yelled, bursting out of the chair he was sat in.

"I can't," Dumbledore said calmly. "And you cannot follow him. He will be completely safe as long as you stay away, I assure you."

Harry scowled, dropping into his seat. "So you want me to sit here and wait while they could be doing _anything_ to my Boyfriend?" he demanded.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "I would ask you if you believe that Lucius would harm his own son, but I think I already know the answer." He rose to his feet. "I will go and gather the Order. You will stay here. I don't think I need to remind you what happened last time." Dumbledore had not wanted to remind Harry of that, and it hurt him to say it, but it seemed like the only way to knock some sense into the boy. He was acting like what he was, a teenager, but they didn't need a teenager, they needed a hero. Until Harry understood the seriousness of this, he would not be of any use to them.

"I should return soon, but then I will have to go back to the Manor. I stress again that you are ALL to remain here," Dumbledore said, dropping a small silver ball out of a box into his palm and vanishing.

Harry seemed to crumble and stood up, holding his arms out to Hermione with a sad look in his eyes. "You were right," he whispered.

She slipped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "I tried to tell you," she mumbled, pressing her face against the comforting solidity of his chest.

Harry shut his eyes tightly, hugging Hermione like a brother would a sister. "I can't believe he left. He's meant to be the smart one."

"He's doing it to protect you, I think, but it doesn't really work," Hermione said.

"How sweet," a drawling voice murmured.

Harry shot away from Hermione, eyes darting around the room before landing on the head suspended in the fire.

"Lucius Malfoy," he said coldly, dropping to his knees to look at Lucius in the fire.

Blaise rocked back and forth on his heels, waiting for Lucius to acknowledge his existence. The man was sat on his leather, high backed chair and watching the fire where Blaise could vaguely see Dumbledore talking to two people.

"Lucius, I don't have all day, you know," he drawled, continuing to rock back and forth.

"You'll have a lot less time than you started out with if you persist in irritating me," Lucius told him. "Be patient."

"Is Draco in the Dungeons?" Blaise asked conversationally, brushing Lucius's comment off with a mere shrug.

"Yes."

Blaise smirked. "Do I get to see him?" he asked, stepping forward to lean on the desk and look into the fire.

"If you wish to," Lucius said coldly. "You know that I am not enamoured of the idea of using my own son as bait for his boyfriend." Lucius put a slight emphasis on the last word.

"Hey," Blaise said, holding his hands up, "Not my fault. Your son's the gay one."

"I didn't blame you," Lucius snapped. "And don't call him that. I am beginning to tire of this conversation."

"Bully for you," Blaise said, picking up a glass paperweight off Lucius's desk and examining it closely. "I'm beginning to tire of your stupid plans."

"Accio ring," Lucius snapped. The ring worked free of Blaise's finger and dropped into his palm. "You were the one who messed them up," he reminded the boy.

"You said you couldn't get it off!" Blaise pointed out heatedly, as his face seemed to relax more, his eyes changing from a dark blue to their normal sapphire. "Well you fucked up by polyjuicing me into... into... into... What the hell am I doing here?"

"You're sitting around being a nuisance," Lucius supplied, checking the fireplace again.

"Shouldn't I be at school?" Blaise frowned, looking for all the world lost. "Why am I here with you? How did I get here?"

"You were captured because we thought you were Harry Potter. You were polyjuiced into him because you didn't get a note as to our change of plans." Lucius rolled his eyes at the uselessness of his minions.

"Oh," Blaise said weakly, not remembering having done any of this. He placed the paperweight back on the desk softly and stared into the fire. "So, why am I still here?"

"Because we still need you. I'm sick of explaining this," Lucius decided. He reached out and gripped Blaise's hand, ramming the ring back onto his thumb. "Take him to the dungeons," he told the wizards at the door. "Lock him up with Draco."

"You're a prick Malofy," Blaise snarled, his eyes darkening and face becoming more defined as the wizards walked over to him. "You're also really stupid. You don't need to do anything, you know, but sit and wait."

"Why would that be?" Lucius asked coldly.

Blaise smiled mirthlessly. "Harry would follow Draco to hell." The wizards took hold of his arms and dragged him off backwards. He was still smiling as the door shut behind them.

Lucius smirked to himself. "Always good news," he murmured, crossing to the fireplace again. Dumbledore said something about the Order, then vanished. Lucius nodded to a guard and told them to prepare for the Order of the Phoenix's arrival. Then he straightened and knelt before the fireplace. Harry and the mudblood were hugging fiercely.

"How sweet," he drawled, smiling indulgently.

There was a pause and then Harry was staring back at him with a dark look. "Lucius Malfoy," he acknowledged.

"I take it you know that Draco has arrived here?" Lucius murmured.

Harry nodded his head. "He told Hermione on his way out."

"Excellent. We've arranged quarters for him. The best the Manor can provide," Lucius smirked. He waved his wand and a scene appeared before the fireplace. Draco was lying against a wall, iron manacles binding his wrists above his head.

Harry's expression darkened. "I can't believe you would do that to your own son," he muttered.

"You ain't seen nothing yet," Lucius drawled. "Crucio," he said, pointing his wand to the figure in the scene. Draco writhed, screaming in pain. "Go to him, Harry," Lucius taunted. "He needs you."

Harry shook his head. "No, I can't. I've already fallen for that before, in the Department of Mysteries last year when I though Sirius was there."

"Trust me, Draco's here," Lucius said. "Bring him here," he told the guards at the door. They Disapparated, then Apparated with the manacled boy in their clutches. They threw him down before the fire. Lucius cleared the small scene and put a hand on the back of Draco's neck. Draco was lolling forwards, eyes bleary and hands shaking violently.

"Harry?" he croaked, looking up out of unfocused eyes.

"Shit," Harry breathed, leaning as close as possible as he could to the fire, without actually touching it.

"Malfoy you bastard," he spat, turning to the older blond man. "How can you do that to your own son?"

"There are lots of things we'll do for loyalty," Lucius said wisely. "You say you love him - how can you just watch him suffer when you know that you could stop it?" He smirked, smug and triumphant, as he raised his wand again. "Crucio."

Draco cried out, burying his face in the chains wrapped about his arms and writhing on the hearth rug. As the curse faded, he lay twitching and shivering, whimpers escaping his lips.

Harry closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths and trying not to lose control. Dumbledore was right, Dumbledore was right, he had to stay put.

"Stop it," he said quietly, opening his eyes when he heard Draco whimpering. "Stop it, I'll come. Let me have an hour to get my wand and to the Manor."

"Harry!" Draco shouted hoarsely. "Don't let him... Just don't come here... For God's sake Harry, do this for me, just stay away..."

He was cut off sharply as Lucius kicked him in the stomach, winding him.

"You don't even have to do all that, Harry," Lucius told him. "Go and get your wand by all means, but then come back here. If you walk into the fireplace, you will arrive here. Simple."

Harry's mouth twisted into a grimace as it became apparent that he was fighting with himself over what to do. "I want your word that Draco won't be harmed," he said evenly.

"I will lock him back in the dungeon and no harm will come to him," Lucius swore.

"Harry! Don't listen to him!" Hermione cried out, grabbing Harry's arm. "He'll never keep his word!"

"Get off him, you stupid little Mudblood," Lucius snapped, looking down his nose at her. "I gave my word. I will not break it. Draco will be locked safely in the dungeon and nothing will be done to harm him."

"DON'T LISTEN!" Hermione shrieked.

"_Petrificus Totalus_," Lucius snapped, pointing his wand at her. Hermione gasped as she fell backwards and hit the floor, as stiff as a board. "There, that little problem's dealt with," Lucius said with the air of someone who had just squashed a fly. "Trust me," he said, signaling to the guards to come and remove Draco. "He will be safe as long as you return within seven minutes." Lucius held his pocket watch up to the fireplace. "And counting," he said ominously.

Harry whirled around to see Hermione fall on the floor and then turned back at Lucius. "Seven minutes is a long time, I can get in touch with Dumbledore and send him there to stop you all in less than three minutes."

"He's already coming," Lucius dismissed it. "And we're ready for him. Go and get your wand, boy."

Harry stood up and walked the length of the room to Hermione, bending down and pulling his wand out of her pocket. He had given it to her to mind whilst he practiced Quidditch earlier. "I'm sorry, 'Mione," he said quietly to her still body, before leaning forward and pressing his lips to her forehead. "But I'll keep my promise."

He turned and walked back over to the fire, taking a breath before stepping through it.


End file.
